dreams photozincographed like vernaculars passing through
the post master general’s office in British India comprise
alternating patterns of Ss, ss, Os, os and &s—
O&S&oO [wet] oOsS O&S&O &SOS
oO&S& [revolving door] &&SSOO [sunlight] OoS& [wet] sO SOS O&SO [wet?] [dust] SOS O&SO && [dance!] &SOS OSO SOS
I know it’s a dream because the cobra is banded like
a sea snake and the sea snake
is preparing to spit. Then there are these little
ones ashen as bean sprouts dropping out the sky-
(the term I was looking for is “rain harvesting”).
I was once about to purchase a bottle of snake wine
until I realized it won’t ship where I live.
I once met someone who told me she thought snakeskin
tasted like soan papdi minus its cloying nature—
some in Tamil Nadu believe the komberi mookan
sentinels from treetops until its victim has been cremated.
~ Arjun Rajendran