The Case of My Pregnant Socks
On a cold summer night,
I wandered to the basement to find my socks.
Found ’em knocked up and breathing.
The muckraker in me paced around at a certain nautical number to find clues.
Instead, questions clothed in worry cotton arrived in volleys.
Will I survive when winter’s fingers fiddle with my ankle bones?
May be I should wish for taller blankets or shorter legs.
What happens when those sweat ducts decide to unload a bundle?
May be I should burn more calories to counter balance their rhythms.
The paunch seemed to be moving.
The pen torch dangled between index and thumb to shed focus.
Ah rats, two of them brats. They were nibbling with the thread work.
May be it looked like lingerie to them.
‘Shoo, they are married to my shoe!’, I wanted to yell but chose not to.
They jogged out through the hole paved by god knows what,
Burping in sync with the soundtracks of the night.
* Previously published in the Houseboat / Finalist in the Goodreads Newsletter Contest -July 2013
Name: Ajay Anand Nagaraju
Location: Coimbatore, India
Influences: Ted Kooser, Haruki Murakami, Jhumpa Lahiri and TS Eliot
Inspiration for this poem: The stealth and daredevil-like quality of rats and the eerie fabric with which night stitches ‘things’ onto itself.
Copyright for the above poem and image remains the sole property of Ajay Nagaraju.