When home is broken
We pick through ruins —
Ruins of fantasy and broken dreams,
Sift through promises shredded
Love stale, memory flaky,
Bitter regrets at bad investments.
There's nothing safe or secure
In human relationship as sits a water drop
On the leaf, uneasy quicksilver,
Trembly, dicey, poised to roll off.
When home leaves the house
And its paints begin to peel off
And its fancy hangings flop,
The nightmare of love remains there
Only to be used to and lived through.
We agree to mean:
On the body of illusion.
Tales, fables, parables
Are but bleeding animals
We sacrifice to atone for sin,
The fiction I mean, fed on
By parasites of meaning.
We agree to mean,
And thereby hangs the tale.
The viscera of meaning
Draws from our illusion
And by believing the meaning
We slip into illusion again.
Pun, puzzle, quandary,
Doubt, suspicion, presumption ~
All these spring from the dead fiction
Like flies swarming into meaning.
Masud Mahmood is Professor, Department of English, University of Chittagong.