Poetry by Mala Rupnarain

               hnt6581 CC



prayer service

​wake up from the car crash
again
duties, by end of day
pick up the flowers
and the sandwiches
wash the body
put on clothes
and her make-up
set the hands
cue the music
welcome guests
and the strangers
sign the guest book
watch them cry
in lieu of flowers
down the aisle
an empty box
with her photo
say some words
say a prayer

say a prayer
with some words
take her photo
empty the box
down the aisle
in lieu of flowers
watch them cry
sign the guest book
and the strangers
welcome guests
music queues
the hands
take off make-up
and the clothes
wash the body
eat a sandwich
and the flowers
end of duties
wake up again
to a car crash

the car crash — wake up!
say a prayer
again, with some words
duties, by end of day
take her photo
pick up the flowers
empty the box and the sandwiches
down the aisle
body wash
in lieu of flowers
put on clothes
watch them cry
and make up!
book the guests
hand
the strangers
the music

welcome guests
music queues
and strangers!
the hands
sign the guest book
take off
watch them cry
clothes
in lieu of flowers
wash the body
down the aisle
eat a sandwich
an empty
flower
her photo
end some words
wake up
a prayer

crash a prayer
wake up some words
flower photo
empty a sandwich aisle
wash the body
of flowers

clothes cry
take the guest book
hand strangers music
welcome guests

welcome music
guest book
cries flower the body
empty photo
wake up a prayer

pray the body welcome
welcome the body, pray





bridge friends forever
(for the family of Reena Virk)


drugstore lipstick, veils over eyelids
painted metals and shimmer tips
i’d rather stay in and watch a movie with my sister
but the popular girls just called
white girls fill the
empty places, between jagged metal
and discarded bottle caps

can an elephant like me escape this miserable fate
meaningless circles under tense lines of grey
outcast within an outcasted minority
among the pale and furious clowns

          the victoria news named them the Shoreline Six
my head and heart, a throbbing purple canvas

full moon and the skies are clear
stolen sips of vodka coolers
moments before it ends
long before the trials began
when Kelly said
I just wanted to get rid of her

         my corpse washed ashore, eight days later
silence in fragments, gossip cracking the icy shallows

craigflower bridge is 64 years old and I am 14
I can't make out the faces beyond
far from the circus tent tears
there's a tree older than both of us
the blackness of bark in the November light

         my dad has since forgiven them all
crushed seeds of my daydreams long released





stardust poet
(for Gord Downie)
​

weary face of the constellation
whirlwind swagger in
discoball glitter pants
cross country, oceans wept for
the paris of the prairies
Jaws agape, tearing flesh
from names and lyrics  

an urgently focused
kiss on the lips
each time, after
an important message from the band
pausing the summer for
a pigeon camera’s glimpse

high school
break-ups
road trips
may two-fours
our favourites playlist
on repeat, denials

we learned of tentacles
that resurrect
even if you sever them
then we met a frozen boy
reconciled at 
the train tracks
we all knew the day would come — and it did
after a late night grace

dear poet
where did you go
don’t you wanna see how it ends?
and who will greet you
at the open door
while we grieve by this empty net

have you seen the boy
with infinite matches 
following the flight path
whispering your words
          no dress rehearsal, only love
like a map
to the stars
​
​

Mala Rupnarain is a Psychology student at the University of Athabasca. Her most recent poems have been published in 2019 issues of Eclectica magazine and High Shelf Press. She’s also received a Critic’s Choice award from the Ontario-based Big Pond Rumours ezine. 

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