Excerpted with permission from Bitter Gourd by Anupama Raju, published by Copper Coin.

If all poetry is protest

If all poetry is protest
I protest poetry, this word that could’ve been
blood, home, privacy,
hate, wound, gun,
identity, freedom, heresy.
I protest metaphors
of love, dark alleyways
where a woman could’ve been screaming dissent,
tongue untied.
If all poetry is protest
I protest ordinary longings, lines that could be wrinkles gathered over years of silence on a face I know well.
I protest sentiment where should have been a question: Why do I write?

§

Cleaning the house

Saturdays are for cleaning and writing.
I begin without map or warning,
moving in circles, gathering dust and dirt,
a week’s cobweb gobbling more than spiders. Sometimes I return to the same spot,
sweep under the dining table, pick up nothing. I sprinkle some dust.
Floors need footprints.
Furniture needs proof of life.
So I wipe them clean, except for the coffee mug stains. Spotless is lifeless.
I must write too, as ideas settle
on the corner coffee table.
The broom, the dusting cloth and mop fit beautifully in my hands.
Their hold is real. Their hold is real. Much more than words that reveal.

§

Our white noise

I wait for you a long time. At last, you call.
You say nothing,
you speak of no one.
We hear each other breathe, heavy as nightfall.
If no news is good news,
if in silence we must love,
I choose the bad over good, I choose not to love.

Anupama Raju is a poet, novelist, literary journalist, translator and communications professional. She is the author of two poetry collections, Bitter Gourd and Nine, and a novel, C.

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