your phd is a leash–
your years practicing public health is the same zipper-slide strummed on repeat
crack platoon homesteads, when we bombed world bank missions,
We can take you to walk anytime we like,
Dark Circles, Wrinskles,
Will let you spot manik miya avenue, over the fences, split the lake, toad hop, onto ministerial portfolios,
diktats re-pronouncing “wed at 18”
your visiting cards read like disaster management white-papers from god’s snore in Bhola–
a category three CMLA–
copious geometry to siphon shell crude to al-Omar proxied onto jerry can hoses strangulating,
Apaches, to dump on authentic simulated wildfires.
Yellowstone: spelled BANGLADESH REHABILITATION ASSISTANCE COMMITTEE, or father, it’s your birthday.
Before niazi, and tikka became boogeymen, mountbatten eulogized, curzon edified, wreaths bolted…, tea sipped, toast dipped…in repatriated Saigon,
your vows were harbormasters warrantying their ferries will never sink,
will never engage population exchange,
Never fly heliborne sorties over Naxalbari, during culling season
Watch your spit riddle on court steps,
Strobe lights librating ping pong
dead air, closed captioning– drive time:
Eve teasing samiti,
Meghna in transliteration,
Jamuna in dub,
Nagorik dredgers/bondage by Babar,
Quick rentals/pirate electricity,
3 koti sriti, koto kore?
Double finger test fable, at the coroner’s office, you read, was not yours,
It was our fists in your daughter,
Our polythene knuckles determining semen residue,
Our intuition, ruling out family,
Banality, the chopping board,
To & fro sunbeams–civil servants who deputize, padma bridge must not madeleine khet-mozurs,
6:01, out the tweezers, out the grand-children, out the violated violators, zanu pf eschewed chuta buas,
i’ll have the you cannot find good help these days $3.98, as Promi flips patties on the grill.
It’s friday, something special?–
Schoolgirl, ponytails, wax hard, disappear, peer-pressure, discombobulate.
She’s grown up, till now just been avuncular horsy rides,
Forensic kits have expired.
Alcohol swabs for the porno mags you found in our drawers,
The louse of the Bulge were Harlem barbers, get him the fuck out of our house.
Tie her 36Ds together, they hurt when she walks,
Further implants are to be delineated by the midwife–discretion, mr. gynecologist,
Volition is 200 years of beer halls–putsch, putsch, putsch, obsolete.
–her baklava, throw food, not bombs,
auditions are on The House, pre-confessional, Post-Protestant Work Ethic–
A Jew. A Catholic. A Sikh.
A Jew. A Catholic. A Sikh.
How many Howitzers does it take to make Kalurghat?
How many times have I told you, I am not trying anal.
Drishti akorshon kori,
Photograph: Gordon Parks