Mappings
Urbanisation - Amlanjyoti Goswami, 2016
Un poème cartographique ! trouvé par hasard lors d’une recherch.
▻http://journals.sagepub.com/doi/full/10.1177/2455747116649271
Amlanjyoti Goswami
But a map is never wrong,
I am told.
I can never tell a map
Right.
I follow a lost dream
Swept by morning.
My city flies, in circles,
Keening, eager…
An old man sells violets and directions
Near a map that says ‘You are here’.
I slice that map like a fruit,
A piece of cake
And find layers
Of soil and memory.
That map turns into beeps and beams
On the wall, smiling, three dimensional.
That map carves a piece of my being
And calls it a real – estate – dream.
But I too see, the street open her arms,
Today, in the middle of all that hurry.
She stretched east and west
On her toes, a building grew up north.
But I went south of south
The shutters of a deserted street sat with me,
Windy, swept off the map, monk still,
A dot outside time, outside maps
A raindrop on a cheek of paper,
Saying,
Find – me-
If
you
can