BOON VALLEY

I watch it. the colossal figure shimmering gold, head resting

atop mountaintops. Head spinning, but rocks remain stagnant

to the center. Inside, under the feet. Just follow

the wheel.

Follow it. The memory will stay in the valley,

but the people will follow it.

I watch. the water fills each crevice of

the floor.

Steps, steps. Again, burning

the skin. Swords cross, but do not scrape. Steps,

steps. Below, beneath the rock. Only four rules

to track, all written on the wall.

You are not an outsider,

leave the memory in your mind; the purpose

will follow.

The rain too, is vacillating

as it massages the wooden market.

I watch.

A man kneels at the foot of the mandir,

his sandals clawing on the gravel below.

A boon

fallen from the sky as

raindrops on a car roof.