Vera Sidhwa Poems

The fruit of Newton's gravity,
The fruit of original sin.
The fruit of the view for the eye,
The fruit of the American pie.
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Love kissed,
Ego killed.
When love flung it's arms around him,
Ego unlocked them to push them away.
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I play musical chairs everyday,
Shifting from one corporate seat,
To another that had just emptied out for me.
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Today I fried a bat for lunch,
Which I got myself to munch and munch,
His cape shaped wings,
His mousy head.
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I drank glasses of water,
I drank water from office coolers.
Many people drank from water fountains.
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My pen had a story already fixed in it.
It held my hand, instead of mine holding it.
I asked the pen why that was necessary.
Why it had to run-write with my own words.
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My beautiful hair just hung like that.
It mattered that others' looked neater.
But I was like the rockband people,
Who realized where genius lay.
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I chased a dried leaf on the freeway,
The long and twisty freeway of fun.
This dry leaf knew no speed limit,
Nor laws of the road, over which many cars would run.
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Fingers fly across plane speed
Creating phrases at neuron speed
Speed thoughts in chemical dispersion
Concepts in literary immersion
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Making your way in this corrupt world, takes every
Ounce of strength.
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