A Collection by Carol D’Souza


For some, history is only a cleaver 

that makes mincemeat on repeat 

Decidedly, less of the grand and 

more of the deadbeat. Nevertheless,

what is seen to survive is a cured 

package of processed parcel to be 

served salted and spiced in the flavour 

favoured by the ruling elite of the day 

For you, walking down the street, intent 

on ferment, and doing things differently 

Resolute with beliefs that thrum 

through your young heart and 

give your supple spine its steel

History could be a cutpiece canopy

Linen, cotton, wool, satin or silk

Any and all. Plain and with flourish 

To be parsed, perused, sifted 

and patchwork stitched. Adding

to the existing weave of patterns 

replete with every kind of kitsch  

And the whole only the more

and never the less for it



A smile snags the gaze 

Has it darting away and back again

Licking the wick of desire to fire



When defences are slumbering, 

who kisses you in your dreams?

Carol D’Souza lives in Chennai. A collation of her work can be found at linktr.ee/cblaizd.