June 11 poem

IN WRITING

It was certified

That you were dead.

I hid you in my closet

Like the pin of a gown

Folded and packed in brown paper.

The search revealed the gown in all its velvety sheen.

But you were invisible like a diamond stud.

I hid you in my bosom

Like the air of rejuvenation

Tucked carefully into the corner of my breath.

The layers of cancer that formed around you

Did not betray the gem within.

It was clear on paper

That you were dead.

I opened you through that signature

Into the world

Like a journey for adventure.

The birds watched you as a freak,

A matter of no importance.

I opened you through the glass doors

Wide across the suburbs;

In oblivion you were clear, not dead.

The cops chased the thief behind you

And left you in the fringe.

(My Dadu expired on 11-Jun-2016)