Humour Poetry

Two Boons and one Bender

By Saranyan BV

Two boons and one bender

Although in a situation where most people living on earth die en-masse
Blown by pandemic or by bacterial catastrophe,
Or by freak accidents like trail of large meteoric rocks crashing,
Or the ocean fed by melting of snow in North pole come bashing
(Like when Arctic begins to look like Sahara and my continent like archipelago,
I happen to be in foothills of Mont Blanc that eventful day 
(For logic’s sake I say this to explain why I don’t die)
Bargaining with the Italian store owner there with cutting edge aquiline nose
Trying to rent low-cost ski-board and other skiing tackles),
Or by evolution of new species more intelligent than mankind,
More robust and more disciplined and more tech savvy
(the funny type which doesn’t tell lies and looks for rationality in all the things they do),
Either by mutation or by unfortunate leak of synthetic embryo 
From some secret lab in Basel or in Rio-de-Janeiro.   
Or the landing of aliens using satellites which look like Harley Davidson
Whose lethal weapons kill in unison, 
Alien species which have eyes located on their bums and can’t see when seated,
(Any incubator company want to design chairs for seating arrangements 
In movie theatre or chaise lounge or bistro, or for suntan under orange-colored parasol?)

Although most people living on earth die like this
(After natural life gets over that is - How boring! How disastrous!)
And earth has enough 6/3 space left to bury
I wouldn’t like to be interned, for who would want to be unearthed,
Discovered long after dead by some disparate archaeologist of random genus
And be smeared with some new chemical which doesn’t let me disintegrate
Either by sound-bite or by light or toxic smell of some obnoxious substance.
I ask God for two boons, one - give me two minutes of life after death; 
To narrate and record events that lead to my death and the causes thereof,
So that no one spreads rumors how I died, that my wife doesn’t say I was reckless 
(God, kill me two minutes before my time and lend me those two minutes for post-mortem!)
I like my remains to feed leg-less organisms in sea, (this the second boon request)
My ankles tied to three-inch nylon rope saddled with fifty kg Hematite rock-horse
Slid where the depth is more than four thousand eight hundred and ten meters
Which is the altitude of Mont Blanc. (we need planned coincidences, right?)
If I can complete the narration in less than two minutes,
I have time to dangle and watch the fishes tugging at me, 
Carrying bits of me to crevices where turtles live and twaddle, 
I like to comb the oceanic floor with my hair, 
Watch fishes mating like there’s no tomorrow
And not fear bad breath because down under the sea bad smell doesn’t carry.

Saranyan BV is poet and short-story writer, now based out of Bangalore. He came into the realm of literature by mistake, but he loves being there. His works have been published in many Indian and Asian journals. He loves works of Raymond Carver.


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