Ode to Slay

By Urvish Lodha

Ode to Slay

dedicated to annoyances, may they fade

the eye of a ticking hour, flickering, suspended

the spirit of a siren blowing into its own wick, tis a tapping,

born from the body, hot, effervescent, unrecommended

when the heel clatters like a colt on glass, undefended

in the wind its calves tighten like a rope around me, handicapping,

the eye of a ticking hour, flickering room suspended

all truth is incoherent when honesty is intended

the ribbon spells, spits, dances to aggravate your lacking,

born from the body, hot, effervescent, unrecommended

what is left of liberation on the dance floor? I pretended

your presence was a blip in the beat, galloping on the trappings,

the eye of a ticking hour, flickering room suspended

chugging, clinking, nailing; all derailed and it’s splendid

hoofs spinning like a glass, rhythm attacking

born from the body, hot, effervescent, unrecommended

below the skies, a blooming dye; it descended

the blossom of scent sent mustangs whacking.

the eye of a ticking hour, flickering room suspended

born from the body, hot, effervescent, unrecommended.

By Urvish Lodha