Aditya Shankar

A Rube Goldberg Day / From a Jail Named Routine

Routine lies ruptured

on the veranda slab, 

a dead rat.

 

The stink reminds, the

revolt of stolen victories:

the minute ones.

 

The hide and seek with

tails and whiskers

 

that opens darkness

like a door

 

into the day,

 

into another round of

yawn, burp, fuck, sweat,

commute, remote, retweet.

 

If left unburied,

the revolt barges the

private boundaries of home

 

and turns into a 

procession in the alley.

 

In that hustle, the inert

home-burrows arise,

join the procession.

 

The mountains that

stood between light and us,

concede to the uprising.

 

The mountains that our elders

spent a lifetime carving out,

seeking the floodgates,

like probes in an angioplasty.

 

In the eyes of the crow 

recording live footage of death,

 

the rend carcass

opens up into a 

Rube Goldberg machine

 

with nerve conveyor belts,

intestinal fireballs,

food pipe transits:

a city of armed sloggers.

 

The crow likes what it pecks at,

flies with its catch 

into the next warfront,

 

drawing a rainbow of freedom

in the process.



About

Aditya Shankar is a poet, flash fiction author, and translator, from Bangalore, India. His writing has been published in International journals from fifteen or more nations. His poetry collections include After Seeing (2006), Party Poopers (2014), and XXL (2018). His book of translations titled Tiny Judges Shall Arriveis forthcoming from Hong Kong. His animated shorts have participated in International Film Festivals.
Read more from him:
Place, on Modern Literature
The Food Chain, in The Wagon Magazine
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