turn to dust

this was one of my initial attempts of writing poetry.

i wrote it in 2005, while i was in college, working 

on my final design collection. 4 years down the line, 

my factual memory seems to have faded a bit, but the

feelings remain (they always do); and it was during 

that process that these thoughts were born, which

inspired me to make this effort.

and, after this, it seems like i have set a standard for 

myself, which i have not been able to achieve again 

so far, but this is not the end, its just a beginning.

"they stand in twos and threes,

the jungle eyes of the women's laughter

breaking the glass

there is an untouched static of posssibility here

around which they construct their night talk,

of concepts toppling,

and designs crashing,

of problematic progeny,

and irritating mortals,

a possibility that sometimes 

allows a woman to touch herself just so,

letting the possibility gather the static,

and shiver and turn steel,

a deadly scimitar that may slash through a heart

to turn to dust, or rust and bend,

and sheathe itself in some tired room within

when the final words of hurtful accusation have been felt."