Outdoor Miner
The light is pink through the backs of trees
can be pine or larch or pear
kinship terms more familiar than names
can be distancing diminutivizing affirming no longer unfamiliar
power cut no inverter
use the gas make tea
slab bakery rising a smell dettol-like heavy vaporous low-lying toxified
can come will be there
Above polished granite compound brown beyond trees hills disappear into houses
concrete lain over rebar hand-torqued into convexity
forms a solid gray unbeveled arch from hilltop to roofline to madan
ostensibly maybe probably to keep errant exposed flanks of illegally-mined sand at bay
because beyond the trees within city limits resources are extracted
thin though thin through competition thin like chats shillongais
thin through taking thin through selling thin through use thin alkaline
from our royal blue Maruti 800 we marvel (‘I’ve never seen anything like this’)
Belt that looks like it’s in inches
measuring the land they wanted to measure right up to the drain
he demanded they measure four feet from the drain they wouldn’t
they measured two feet from the drain
Multiply 1300 per sq foot by 150 by something
it comes to seven crore and something
are you accusing me of making a mistake he said
it’s eight
The light is still morning light
thin but full and not paining bright
cat Kyntiak (later disappeared leaving
jean thread hangings tangling attachment
the vox-hollow bereft missing swipes)
motionless intent springing
curling into grass shadowed by reeds
shaded by the backs of trees
Like citrus vapor the light emulsifies
micronic droplet flamande
Kyntiak intensifies
muscles tighten dainty
to articulate tip
the jaws pink bat-like
begin to open and close rapidly in a clatter
like toy teeth hers are needles on a wound spring
She in a trance flashing the teeth
the jaws opening and closing very rapidly
from the throat an involuntary chatter
an ek ek ek
frightening until a short echo sounds
she’s imitating in the grass
a small black bird nearly perfectly
as a kind of lure staring intent involuntary
Let out in the afternoon moon
hens
sawdust sticking to their heels
forking
but ignored draw lines in the wet grass pushing up
pyrjong mosquitoes
intimate gossamers but gossamers
require cosseting to be expected to survive
Not th as in thy
voiced and voiceless two-character plosive
melded double-wound copper core
damp down mutton bone thlone
trains the tongue to make h cluster
aspirationally close the windows it’s after 5
it’s already two hours
since the mosquitoes left the shallows for the sha—
Cat as cowboy
astride
the white chickens
thick
compound I
not as in thy
we freely
take
Too hot to paint
corrugated tin all last month
too wet now in back to whitewash or paint the doors
green enamel islands fleck
into Sintex
yellow print black catchment
tin roof in the rain
too wet to paint
Nature where encroachments and distortions are everywhere
nuclear minority Romulus and Remus same she produces wastes
Romanized orthography botches
epenthetic lot
extension
takes another plot
down the garden path
switching on the pump
Starting construction the land by Royal Enfield accommodates
another concrete abode
outdoor tube-lights
fail to explode
Golflink Lodge stupendous
can’t get a liquor license
the Garo church down the lane objects
the Cherokee Room at rs. ----- remains empty
And this house itself a dacha outside the city limits this city
Salzburg sma ksem
where Mozart came and Julie Andrews
fashioned love out of drapes
what is it ringed by mountains like a berserk
Maypole sticking up from tech park proclaiming vanquished cloud corpora
Salzburg while down the hill toward the private pinus psychiatric hospital
a rural health mission strops youth in clime or was that just in Golda’s mind
The red light atop the black plastic speakers’ subwoofer beats
in waltz time
jaggery candy striper wound round spindle leading down to three men
in basement rooms the khrum for clandestine Buds
I think in America you don’t see very many ladies in saris
there is no more native dress anywhere I think only India is beautiful
Morse bill of lading
Ezekiel trading
The light is fading
the bed is mading
the heart is beating
bp-bp bp-BP!
chattering teeth
like polished teak
repeating
reap
Michael Scharf’s most recent poetry collection is For Kid Rock / Total Freedom. His critical essays have been published in Poetry, Boston Review, Poets & Writers, Jacket, and other publications. From 1997-2006 he served as poetry reviews editor at Publishers Weekly. He is based in Shillong and New York.