baarish

the rain fails it cannot calm anger

watch our shame as we bombard each other with our rants, writhing and gasping for air. us who eat more than we need and think less than we should, we are entitled to claim as our own the crater filled roads and crumbling bridges. and as the rains come down to flood us we clutch onto our concrete slabs and see everyone but those washed away. honk our horns and cry aloud. boycott! we yell, baying for blood. we who claim as our own the immense mammaries of the welfare state sit in bars and chuckle proudly at our excesses.

v is in kashmir, capturing the scent of an angry people. I make some vacuous joke and forget to think about children who collect tear gas shells fired to douse fear and disillusionment.

the rain comes down hard it washes us out and you can see our dirt, spread out for the world to smell