For the Cicadas

Photograph i'd taken last year when i went back home [Mizoram]. In Mizo we call the Cicada "Thereng". So it's the wing of a dead Mizo Thereng ... and just so happens that one fine day my blogger friend Feddabonn posts this...what i call a discreetly morbid poem...on his blog..

For the Cicadas.

what then, are the sounds
of this city?

is it the gentle tap-tap-tap of a million keyboards
(writing shakespeare, no doubt)
or the deep bass rumble of the chimneys
in a thousand asian takeaways?

maybe the laughter that stumbles drunkenly out of the cafés
to swing, stagger and CRASH!
at our (suitably) jandal-ed feet
or the plainitive wail of a car alarm
being industriously ignored?

what then, are the sounds
of this city?

for the cicadas, at least here,
are dead.

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Feddabonn's blog: [link]