Dulled are my faculties
a room of dialogues decayed
My wants locked in cold evaporate
The haze of masquerade

I wear a coat of invisibility
to cloak this body, my shell
your empty words deflected
the vacuum of pretense my prison cell

in this museum of shiny knick knacks
my being tethered to the minutes and hours
A captive of contradictions
and wishful hallucinations, soured

All I want are white flecks of day
A light to crumb the course
an usher to slower expectations
my inamorata of discourse

words © 2011 Malai Carrara
Photography copyright © Nausher Banaji
all rights retained by photographer. www.Nausher.com

Musings in tenebrous grottos
All my childhood wants cling to a passing sigh
they wind like waves in a mystic sea
deeply unsettled
and colliding
with jaded voices of
the mocking and absurd
They echo through these tunnels
Like a gentle zephyr arranging
Bones and souls along baroque walls
Is this my divine benediction
Or are these the sounds of distemper?

words © 2011 Malai Carrara
Photography copyright © Nausher Banaji
all rights retained by photographer. www.Nausher.com

Deciduous things
Half harvests of sweetened fruit
most of their bitter drawn out by sun
changes to vernal bright and buds
the same experiment year over year
“Things happen for a reason” they say
Deciduous things
better than the clamor of gossip
and wears of domesticity.
mystic appraises the tea leaves,
sediment at the bottom of the cup
some takes the shape of my Other - a ghost
and some a smudge that runs into Self
a stain of our vagabond lives

words © malai carrara
Image by Vadim Stein

I stole a piece of shade
Behind the red maple
And leaned into the crack of time
carved by the wind
Looking to memories of my innocence
Fractured scarlet samaras
By wind, Blown off course
And shivered vertigo
It was a past to difficult to release
And a future we knew nothing about

words © 2011 Malai Carrara
Photography copyright © Nausher Banaji
All rights reserved by photographer

Stay with me a little while
Under the warm of morning
Light slipping through coral veils
Peeling flesh of tangerine.
Breathe with me to feel the vapor
A tumble of our secrets inching
Towards the remains of night
Wayfarers of solitude
Trying to settle still
Knowing nothing we do
Will ever be understood

Words © 2011 malai carrara
Image by Lylia Corneli

My story is -
that I will be there, making my memories a la piazza sitting at a small table with my espresso watching youthful stilettos flit over cobblestones in much the same way surefooted mountain goats skip over rocks – but with more flare.
I’ll look down towards my own tender experiences now tucked into stylish but practical footwear and smile because I know that even with a few years on me now, I can easily skip lightly across cobblestone and descend narrow stone stairs if I had to.
I will write epic poetry most evenings next to the gentlemen who have congregated for a game of scoba and will play until late into the night.
They will tell me stories in language so soft it would weave as silk.

What story would you tell me?

words © Malai Carrara
Photography copyright © Nausher Banaji
all rights retained by photographer. www.Nausher.com