The Lady
Based on the painting “The Tub” (1917) by Vanessa Bell
She waited, shy
in her nakedness, wondering softly
about the infinite traditions, cruel
in their shortcomings.
She teetered, silent
on the edge of abject nuances, stale
in her moments of indecision.
She prolonged; her fragile certainty
her saving grace;
she held herself, protected
in the folds of her innocence.
Noises
I hear the noises
the house makes
while I lie silent under my warm sheets
wet with my sweat,
at night
or day;
the house does not discriminate.
The cuckoo clock is reassuring,
tikTok tikTok tikTok…
just a predictable regular sound of the pendulum.
Only my heart races to catch up to it
when the house creaks
while I lay awake at night
or day;
the sounds do not discriminate.
We heard the story when we bought the house, and
scoffed at the idea of floating dead people.
There were none;
only a dead girl
with a bloodied brother screaming for help frantically.
She died on the way to the hospital,
or so they said.
But I hear the noises all the same,
night and day;
my ears do not discriminate.
SANCHARI SUR is a Bengali Canadian who was born in Calcutta, India. She has published numerous articles in South Asian Parent, Helter Skelter and South Asian Generation Next. Her short story “She Got Off Easy” will be published in a forthcoming Indian anthology. Currently, she is a Master’s student of English McMaster University, Canada. You can find her at http://sursanchari.wordpress.com.
Based on the painting “The Tub” (1917) by Vanessa Bell
She waited, shy
in her nakedness, wondering softly
about the infinite traditions, cruel
in their shortcomings.
She teetered, silent
on the edge of abject nuances, stale
in her moments of indecision.
She prolonged; her fragile certainty
her saving grace;
she held herself, protected
in the folds of her innocence.
Noises
I hear the noises
the house makes
while I lie silent under my warm sheets
wet with my sweat,
at night
or day;
the house does not discriminate.
The cuckoo clock is reassuring,
tikTok tikTok tikTok…
just a predictable regular sound of the pendulum.
Only my heart races to catch up to it
when the house creaks
while I lay awake at night
or day;
the sounds do not discriminate.
We heard the story when we bought the house, and
scoffed at the idea of floating dead people.
There were none;
only a dead girl
with a bloodied brother screaming for help frantically.
She died on the way to the hospital,
or so they said.
But I hear the noises all the same,
night and day;
my ears do not discriminate.
SANCHARI SUR is a Bengali Canadian who was born in Calcutta, India. She has published numerous articles in South Asian Parent, Helter Skelter and South Asian Generation Next. Her short story “She Got Off Easy” will be published in a forthcoming Indian anthology. Currently, she is a Master’s student of English McMaster University, Canada. You can find her at http://sursanchari.wordpress.com.
