THE SILVER ANKLETS
Rita Nath Keshari
Amid the deafening traffic,
The sweat-soaked bodies,
The grey grimness of another
Working wrecking day,
The high precision of profession,
The official interpersonal relationships
Designed to jack up competence
and assembly line productivity---
I hear the soft jingling laugh
Of my sly silver anklets.
The haunting trill of birds,
The gurgling of swift river currents
The peacock-crowned cowherd boy
Are the monopoly of advertisement
cunning.
Even then as one moment
Gets locked into another
My unseen anklets capture in
Silver melody a forbidden rhythm.