Of late I have begun to feel a hunger To take in with greed, like a forest fire that Consumes and with each killing gains a wilder, Brighter...
Of late I have begun to feel a hunger To take in with greed, like a forest fire that Consumes and with each killing gains a wilder, Brighter charm, all that comes my way. Bald child in Open pram, you think I only look, and you Too, slim lovers behind the tree and you, old Man with paper in your hand and sunlight in Your hair... My eyes lick at you like flames, my nerves Consume ; and, when I finish with you, in the Pram, near the tree and, on the park bench, I spit Out small heaps of ash, nothing else. But in me The sights and smells and sounds shall thrive and go on And on and on. In me shall sleep the baby That sat in prams and sleep and wake and smile its Toothless smile. In me shall walk the lovers hand In hand and in me, where else, the old shall sit And feel the touch of sun. In me, the street-lamps Shall glimmer, the cabaret girls cavort, the Wedding drums resound, the eunuchs swirl coloured Skirts and sing sad songs of love, the wounded moan, And in me the dying mother with hopeful Eyes shall gaze around, seeking her child, now grown And gone away to other towns, other arms."Kamala Dashttp://www.poemhunter.com/poem/forest-fire/ Less
