Samiksha Tulika Ransom
Before I am out of bed somebody has already pasted
a stale yellow morning on the glass of my window
and a eucalyptus that tries hard to stand straight and colossal
but erupts when the wind punches its gut
The scent of its leaves mixes with petrol
makes for an unhealthy civilization
an omniscient question
that nobody knows the answer to
Absurdity swims in the air with cotton seeds
settles on the freckles on my cheeks
while Roquentin’s nausea hammers me in the stomach
and unease finds me laying back in bed
staring at the concentric circles on the ceiling
hoping for the clouds to come down in a flash
and neutralize all my wars like the atomic bomb.
When the funeral-city is over
I will flood the air like geosmin
I will infest the earth like brine.
Reference is made to Antoine Roquentin who is the protagonist in Jean Paul Sartre’s modernist-existential novel titled, Nausea.