November Absolved

Subhransu Maitra

Why should I abuse and blame

this November for my woes?

November has its own intricate autumn song—

not a sizzling sparkling thungri,

but a slow riverine quiet natural flow

that delves into

the sun-leached squalor opulence feisty decrepitude

of the misbegotten delinquent dread-dear city

to emerge—if only for a moment or two—

under an unblemished blue sunlit sky presiding

over three centuries of implacable Promethean living,

or in a vaguely mournful expansive autumn evening

distilling the stubborn essence of this living—TA

into gladdening creative time-expunging clarity.