Poetry / Poets / Writers / Writing

2 poems by Shaista Tayabali

Grammar School

Waiting in the queue
for the bus that never comes

I am pondering the aesthetics
of the modern English tongue

Speak and thou shalt be spoken to
only if you can

fail to enunciate,
with the pride of the Common Man.

A strange re-learning this
undoing years of elocution

to master colonial linguistics
for a post-colonial re-education:

I am trying to remember
to forget the t’s,

and slash the g’s
off the end-in(g)s –

I am gathering together
a homeless family

of split
infinitives.

 

 

The Pedicure

(after Hiroshige)

Lost on the feng shui highway
I am directed, by colour and texture
towards the eternal purchase
of goods, the bad
and the other.

I am buying dreams
(red mules and voile reams)
enchanted by the image of
me, the haunting silhouette
who escapes the bed,
the blankets, the heat
to become that other –the free.

Somewhere across the ocean
in a village by the sea
my sister is paring her nails
and humming softly
preparing herself
for a little baring of the self
later,
with the visiting wind
and the tree.

 

About Shaista Tayabali:

I live in Cambridge, England, and have just completed my MA in Creative Writing and am working on a collection of poetry, a memoir and the beginnings of a novel. I have been writing a blog at Lupus in Flighthttp://www.lupusinflight.com since 2009 – a place where I gathered myself during an arduous four months in hospital. The medicines work most of the time; eating poetry works all the time. 

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