Let all these summers go!: A poem 

I look at the barren fields of the cloudless sky 

and feel a lack of communion with its heat 

peeling my clothes off me like an outer layer of skin 

I don’t even think it’s necessary to prize my nakedness within 

There is no shame in the aloneness of windows shut tight, at least! 

I am disabled by my inability to call love (like an empty consolation) 

Its constellation leaves me disassociated and dispassionate 

As if I need no nutrition like a necessity of sustenance 

And am I an old cupboard that is so stuffy on the inside 

that no longer feels pride in encumbering its favourite things? 

I think of this summer as a hard-knuckled wooden chair 

upon which I feel uncomfortable or simply refuse to sit 

This is a humid season going on all its fours 

pretending to be a pet, but actually being a carnivore 

I followed my hunger to a rather inauspicious-looking store 

and discovered it had no delicatessen to suit my pangs 

So, I detoured back to my austere pantry to pick out stale savouries 

 I just have an overwhelming feeling that I am living for nothing 

as if my doing anything impinges on everything 

For, that opportunistic watcher is raring to strike a deal 

on anything I make evident; it is like sealing his steal 

So, I simply will not let these summers bareback ride me 

I am not going to entertain their desire to touch and feel me!