Red Moon

Toil, for you cant find relief
In the drunk-evening songs
Your mates sing by the mejhi;
Bound yourself in knots,
As irregular migrants filter
through government offices
Sweat, salt, skin:
Opium-feckled eyes.
Hold,the reins of your desire
On xewali-fragrant autumn dusks;
No point venturing out
Into the cold-blooded dwellings
of security posts
Only the half-dead roam
the curfewed streets
On nights like these.

Notes:

mejhi: a traditional bon-fire lit mostly during the Assamese festival of Magh Bihu in January.
xewali: (Assamese word) an edible flower, also called, night-flowering jasmine.