Smita Agarwal: A Hidden Wordsmith

Here is a small poem I found in a book I’ve been reading for my exam. I couldn’t help but share it here. All rights go to Smita Agarwal (the poet) and the Oxford University Press! Soo many Indian women poets and hardly any readers.


The Word-Worker

(For Jeanette Winterson)

My eyes lick them off the page;

I chew them, suck the juices,

Let the flavours seep in. I am

The dreamer; words, the cocoon

I knit. Fixed for ever in the

Slim gap between alphabets

I am the saboteur, the hit-man.

Words scurry down dark lanes

Or brightly lit streets. I rip

Off masks, bequeath new skin,

Dragoon words into birthing

Faces never before born.

Now don’t tell me that the writer in yourself does not connect with it.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s