Clothesline Poem by Prabhakar Subramaniam

The school whites
Are hung out to dry
In readiness for Monday
There is a hint of stain
No powder can wash away
Without soft water
Scarce in a drought year
The world will not stop for him;
I cannot see his footwear
Outside the door
Or his walking stick
Leaning against the chair
Someone else is there;
His veshti and lungi are missing too
In his usual spot on the clothesline
Will he be missed too
By his kin whom I heard
Blame him for inviting the fatal illness
Drinking something ice cold
Like a last wish
Landing in the ICU
And causing so much trouble?