Runways

Poetry / Tanuj Solanki

That dear careless minute
When my transnational imaginaries
Tense around my flash-fiction present.
There was Paris there will be Paris
Paris is not the center of the world.
And I can always, yes, tweet myself away.
(What’s the gender of globalization again?

My nose has some freckles
              I once saw an excessively freckled woman
                            It is surprising I see freckles as lovely)

Wisdom, like the sky, is just how vastness appears to us.
I've been in an Airbus (not going to Paris) where
A screen played a camera attached to the nose:
First the runway blazed past,
Then stubborn patterns of stars.
It’s lame after a while
After it crashes on you that

You too are cosmically inclined,
              Thus resigned,
              As all flights happen between runways

That are identical.

Tanuj Solanki lives and works in Bombay. His first novel is due out from Harper Collins India in October 2016. His work has been published in reputed magazines and newspapers in India, such as The Caravan, DNA, The Hindu Business Line, and others. Among litmags, he has published work in Litro, Burrow Press Review, and numerous others.