hardback awakening

The air is thick, and has revived
my books, anticipating the first spell
of Bombay monsoon. Ambient moisture
has slaked pages that shuffle and twist,
arise to a wakefulness, unleaving.
Feeling the discomfort of nearness, they push
like Harbour Line commuters in rush hour,
to complain I have neglected them too long.

At night, I am shaken by a poltergeist
Thud! snapping me out of a dream state.
I pull on my glasses, feel my way
to the bookshelves. The hardbacks wait for me,
annoyed. They fall on their sides, open wide
and like Gabriel, call upon me: ‘Read!’
they cry, ‘Read!’

Mustansir Dalvi

previously published in Slow Trains, Vol. III, Issue 2, Fall 2003