Arun Sagar
Afterwards, on the Quay
The sailboats
have left for this year a-
long with the stalls
and concert stages, the
people wearing T-
shirts emblazoned with
flags and lyrics to old
folk songs. All
your seasick sailors, they are row-
ing home. Rare
that a cover rivals the
original, but
what can be done in this
depleted time? And
now we face these
two strangers dancing for
us while the buses re-
sume their hours and
prices descend in the
restaurants. White
tents uncover rope and wood. Red
carpeting in the
official shops. See
how hard it is to en-
ter the scene, her
dress ashimmer against the
brick gymnasium while an old
man checks his hat for
change and ladders
of sunlight quiver across the
water from the dan-
cers to me. Chimay
Bleue brims in my
glass. Trails
of rubbish float up-
on the water, close-
ly followed by a
flock of gulls a hundred
miles upriver.
Ugly
pointed beaks when seen
up close. I am
sitting on the stone they
use to anchor ships.
The ferris wheel is slowly
turning, but your
ticket is only valid
for today, so go closer to
the postcard clouds, get
a good view. The
lifting bridge is still up high
enough for smaller
vessels to pass through, sea-
wards, and who among us knows how
many years be-
fore it’s raised again?
Arun Sagar grew up in India and currently lives in France, where he is working on a PhD in law at the University of Rouen. His poems have appeared in journals and anthologies including The Journal, DesiLit and Hand Luggage Only (Open Poetry, 2008).