The concrete slab is cold

Running rest-day ...

... and here's a lesser-known Vikram Seth poem, from the pictured 1990 collection. The directness, and honesty, of the poem jumps off the page:


Equals

It's evening. I lack courage.
The sun has set behind the fogbound hill.
The breeze has died, even the jays are silent.
The lake is still.

I sit down. I am tired.
To speak my mind's beyond my power to do.
I have no warranty against the vision
I have of you.

You're close, and cannot help me.
The concrete slab is cold. The arcing stars
Pass too high overhead for easy grasping
Even if ours.

But frogs' songs, quiet ripples,
These we may claim, and for this while concede
We are, at least in hope, unequal equals,
If not in deed.