{"id":11978,"date":"2021-10-16T11:44:28","date_gmt":"2021-10-16T10:44:28","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=11978"},"modified":"2021-11-02T21:21:34","modified_gmt":"2021-11-02T20:21:34","slug":"2-poems-8","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=11978","title":{"rendered":"<strong>2 Poems<\/strong>"},"content":{"rendered":"<h3><img decoding=\"async\" loading=\"lazy\" src=\"https:\/\/i.postimg.cc\/PrX46TbN\/05-The-Circle-and-The-Square-low-res-only-330-KB.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"600\" height=\"360\" \/><\/h3>\n<h3><strong>The Peacock<\/strong><\/h3>\n<p>That lumbering train,<br \/>\ntarpaulin wings brushing<br \/>\nstone chips and dust,<br \/>\nthat heaving gush to the<br \/>\nterrace, keeping vigil<br \/>\nover flower pots<br \/>\nand threats from<br \/>\nthe neighbouring<br \/>\ndesert\u2014always making<br \/>\na song and dance about<br \/>\neverything\u2014a block of<br \/>\niridescence against<br \/>\nthe co-operative\u2019s cream.<\/p>\n<p>The spit and crackle<br \/>\nof tempering in daal.<br \/>\nHeeng laps the morning<br \/>\nsun and from time to time<br \/>\nit all turns dark. He<br \/>\nagglutinates<br \/>\nin blood-iron notes<br \/>\nof dampened earth,<br \/>\nthe frantic beating of<br \/>\nwooden windows,<br \/>\nwhite noise,<br \/>\ntarring to clarity<br \/>\nagainst the neon<br \/>\ngradient of night,<br \/>\nhis plume a<br \/>\ntousled glisten<br \/>\noff the ledge.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><!--nextpage--><\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<h3><strong>The First Morning<\/strong><\/h3>\n<p><em>i.m. Sutapa Majumdar<\/em><\/p>\n<p>A loss so long ago<br \/>\nI cannot find it.<\/p>\n<p>The very next morning\u2014<br \/>\nthe first morning\u2014<\/p>\n<p>the pin-drop<br \/>\nsun fell dully<br \/>\non wood;<br \/>\nevery object<br \/>\naffixed the room.<\/p>\n<p>On a hook<br \/>\nmy kurta hung,<br \/>\nstarched<br \/>\nwhite to moth-wing.<\/p>\n<p>The air<br \/>\nsoft-pelted with<br \/>\nincense,<br \/>\nthe others<br \/>\nlet me be,<br \/>\nand walking<br \/>\nthrough the<br \/>\nstill pall<br \/>\nstirred up<br \/>\ncurlicues\u2014<br \/>\nsmoke chased<br \/>\nthem down<\/p>\n<p>inefficiently.<br \/>\nIn the<br \/>\neye-bulge<br \/>\nof the blank<br \/>\nTV screen<br \/>\nshone ample windows<br \/>\nand I,<br \/>\nmirrored, neaped<br \/>\nin bed.<\/p>\n<p>I was free and could not tell anybody.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>The Peacock That lumbering train, tarpaulin wings brushing stone chips and dust, that heaving gush to the terrace, keeping vigil over flower pots and threats from the neighbouring desert\u2014always making a song and dance about everything\u2014a block of iridescence against the co-operative\u2019s cream. The spit and crackle of tempering in daal. Heeng laps the morning [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":357,"featured_media":12080,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_is_tweetstorm":false,"jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":[]},"categories":[401,405],"tags":[404],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO plugin v20.2.1 - https:\/\/yoast.com\/wordpress\/plugins\/seo\/ -->\n<title>2 Poems - The Manchester Review<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=11978\" \/>\n<link rel=\"next\" href=\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=11978&page=2\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"2 Poems - The Manchester Review\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"The Peacock That lumbering train, tarpaulin wings brushing stone chips and dust, that heaving gush to the terrace, keeping vigil over flower pots and threats from the neighbouring desert\u2014always making a song and dance about everything\u2014a block of iridescence against the co-operative\u2019s cream. 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He has previously been published in The Poetry Review and Transect.\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?author=357\"}]}<\/script>\n<!-- \/ Yoast SEO plugin. -->","yoast_head_json":{"title":"2 Poems - The Manchester Review","robots":{"index":"index","follow":"follow","max-snippet":"max-snippet:-1","max-image-preview":"max-image-preview:large","max-video-preview":"max-video-preview:-1"},"canonical":"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=11978","next":"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=11978&page=2","og_locale":"en_US","og_type":"article","og_title":"2 Poems - The Manchester Review","og_description":"The Peacock That lumbering train, tarpaulin wings brushing stone chips and dust, that heaving gush to the terrace, keeping vigil over flower pots and threats from the neighbouring desert\u2014always making a song and dance about everything\u2014a block of iridescence against the co-operative\u2019s cream. The spit and crackle of tempering in daal. 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