THE OPERATION AFTER THE RESPITE

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by deebachelvan

you’re tired
using the lone phone
in the deserted city
dialing numbers
the calendar and the clock
on the mud-wall
of the roofless house
lie turned.

your very last hope
is dying out
under the poovarasu tree.
you’re counting the days
of your return
on the abandoned gates
and the belongings left behind.


couldn’t figure out
a word from your lament
but your language
was mutilated
in the president’s UN speech
as the sounds of the wail
and the pavements you
trudged on.

are interpreted as laughter
heads nod
finding the fowl
and the chicks left behind
dead
the bats hanging upside down
weep.

everyone evacuated the city
by yesterday.

the hungry boy who chased the UN
(relief) vehicle
was detained at the
oman thai checkpoint
your hunger was written
on the flour bag
that hid the bomb.

you look up
as if the sky has deceived you
not realizing
that your time is up
with the resumption
of army operations
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