Quilting the Poems

That trip to Dalhousie

Do you remember that trip to Dalhousie?
The shimmering blue suit I wore,
the snowy-white ice we played on,
the quaint beauty and peace--
I had tried to memorize them,
but now I wish to scrub them.
Do they haunt you too?

The untouched candle-lit dinner,
tumbled fury of words,
unbreachable silence,
and the pitying glances of driver--
they creep on me like darkness,
shadowing my smiles and laugh.
Do they dance on your mind too?

I left a few pieces of me there,
one on the hilltop where I hobbled
with my throbbing ankle,
one in the arms of the tree
where I sat willing you to look at me,
and one is there in that hotel room
echoing with the folk-music.
Do the pieces of your soul hang there too?

Those pieces will be repelled by present me,
but if you go, will you collect them ?
They loved you once,
they might come to you again.
Just drown them in the water of Ravi.
You remember what they told us then,
the river washes everything,
maybe it will erase those pieces too,
and this phantom pain will be eased.