Final Call

Nothing to declare. I’m traveling light—
a box or two, some letters to my name—
soap-bubbling to the exit, out of sight
and mind, hereby renouncing any claims
unsettled. Like a pocket polaroid
bleached in the sun, the days disintegrate.
Tried custom spares us that which I’d avoid,
shrinks desire to debris. I shed the weight
of your sleep tangled arm. Give up the ghost
that clings like smoke to flannel. All must go,
surrendered willingly before it’s lost
or dulled with use. No smuggled memento
drags at my heart. I own a tidy break
while worlds without keep widening in your wake.

Faking It

Afterwards I wonder what compelled me
to sweeten our congress with subterfuge.
Some heady tenderness? The way you held me
in the back seat of the cab? Sheer gratitude
for warmth against my back under the covers?
When hearts are willing, why should bodies fail
(I reason while you sweat)? Let other lovers
resort to aids mechanic. I’ll prevail
through artful gesture, pant in rhythmic chorus,
perform with twisting limbs a wild encore—
bravissimo! Not for your pride but for us
I mime our confluence. I don’t keep score.
Illusive synchrony unites us two.
With nightly lies I remain true to you.

Shalmi Barman


If you have any thoughts about these sonnets,  Shalmi Barman would be pleased to hear them