Issue
#4

July
2009

a poem by Ajay Vishwanathan

Purgatory Walk

I feel the push on my back,
The go, the now, you!
No door, just black that appears,
Like fast tarmac under a plane,
Only darker, wetter, complete.
Moisture rides my feet, little gurgles
Burble around my ear, escaping water
Into arcane exits, swoosh;
I move, or darkness moved.
Alley fathomless, progress
Into murmurs, whispers, and
Familiar voices jostle to
Get my attention, dead father,
He loved me always, he swears,
Grandma Joyce sobs a request:
Pull me off my wheelchair!
Shadows in pitch-darkness
Sashay and swagger
As sudden lights incandesce,
In intelligent repetitions, packets,
Untraining me to lightlessness.
The nitrogen rises as depleting air
Stops filling my lungs;
My sole feels the sandy ground,
Turns stony, then swift
Just as it pulls me away,
Horizontal, light-headed,
My screaming silence.
Don't you ever, ever
play with the snooze!
Sergeant Moss' face appears
From nowhere, in all light
And remorseless eyes stare.
Up! Take your damn spot
On the damn roof!
Snipers don't doze.

© Ajay Vishwanathan

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