Tag Archives: dead

Bhima’s Song

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I was thinking of men who knew when to die,

Who chose their moments with care.

“Put a rhinoceros beetle in a plastic matchbox

And set it out, to fly”, they’d say.

Seconds slip, not much like sand, but

Rather like a child

Pissing the rays of an old god through glass

To decimate the ants.

I was thinking of men who knew when to die,

And how their death was wasted

On cracked Elephant skulls in Indian plains

And on chariot wheels, gripped in the mud.