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I went mad in your house of words,
purposely mad, so you would
give me asylum.

I went mad to undergo
a therapy of syllables.

But you prescribed crosswords,
anagrams for sleeping pills.
That didn’t work.

You bought a Scrabble game.
I juggled the white pieces,
maybe a hundred times.
But my seven letters
were all vowels.

When you spoke again,
my sorrow turned deaf:
I couldn’t hear you smile.

Words never evade you,
you can build anything.
You can build a whole hour
with only seven seconds.

Framed with consonants,
we resumed play, no vowels
in my seven letters.
I saw you do wonders without vowels.

Let’s give up, I said,
but you cried: Truth AND Consequences!
I rocked shut to sounds.

You challenged me to Charades.
I agreed. This
would be my syllable-cure.

Tableau One: I licked a saucer of milk.
You cried: CAT!
Tableau Two: I was stubborn as a mule.
You cried: ASS!
Tableau Three: I gave you my smile, like a prize.
You cried: TROPHY!

You cried: CAT-ASS-TROPHY?
You cried: CATASTROPHE!

Ali, Agha Shahid, “Language Games,” The Veiled Suite: The Collected Poems, Penguin Books Limited, 2010.
Published with permission from Penguin Random House India.

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