Perfection
by Samartha Vashishtha
The
boisterous weekend bazaar
springs to life with a roar.
Early
evening -
the sky
like a broken cable in storm
hanging
from the edge of the world.
Four
horses, legs tied,
unable to complete the ascent -
the middle
of their season of heat.
The
sweet-meat vendor filling
curve after curve after curve
with
sugar.
Proud
of the new watch on his wrist
the little boy standing by his
side
will tell the time when asked
correct to the last turn of
the second.
Everything
so close to perfection
yet
so far away
till she turns to my side and says
I don't want to
see again
this beard of yours tomorrow.