VANISHING ACT
SYED JARRI HAIDER
as the day begins to cast its long shadow
in his old room
strange things begin to happen
one by one
his trophies disappear from the shelves
the cracked Rolling Stones poster is ripped from the wall
present day extends its fingers over his old toys
piece by piece
it disassembles the miniature airplanes
then waits for the new furniture to arrive:
velvet drapes and a vintage chiffonier;
guestroom extravaganza
takes over the room like an invading army
each item
justifying its place in this colonial order
set against the stuttering drawl of a room
learning its new purpose; this is feng shui’ed bliss
made possible by an original vanishing act
a child’s trick
with implications as vast as empire
but only visible in this light:
late afternoon gracing all four corners,
then a shard of sunset
dividing the room like a life,
which is to say
only at this time of day
do the guests notice
they’re unwelcome; which is to say
an apparition sometimes overtakes reality
to demonstrate the room’s past use
pausing between each frame
to unveil his desk
rustling papers
a type-writer
an empty chair
the gentle curve of his bent posture and then his hand
reaching for a glass of water
which now falls
as if of its own volition
shattering like brittle bones
so that in the second you look up from the disaster
on the floor, he has staged yet another
vanishing act.
in his old room
strange things begin to happen
one by one
his trophies disappear from the shelves
the cracked Rolling Stones poster is ripped from the wall
present day extends its fingers over his old toys
piece by piece
it disassembles the miniature airplanes
then waits for the new furniture to arrive:
velvet drapes and a vintage chiffonier;
guestroom extravaganza
takes over the room like an invading army
each item
justifying its place in this colonial order
set against the stuttering drawl of a room
learning its new purpose; this is feng shui’ed bliss
made possible by an original vanishing act
a child’s trick
with implications as vast as empire
but only visible in this light:
late afternoon gracing all four corners,
then a shard of sunset
dividing the room like a life,
which is to say
only at this time of day
do the guests notice
they’re unwelcome; which is to say
an apparition sometimes overtakes reality
to demonstrate the room’s past use
pausing between each frame
to unveil his desk
rustling papers
a type-writer
an empty chair
the gentle curve of his bent posture and then his hand
reaching for a glass of water
which now falls
as if of its own volition
shattering like brittle bones
so that in the second you look up from the disaster
on the floor, he has staged yet another
vanishing act.
SYED JARRI HAIDER is a young Pakistani poet who first entered into English poetry with a course on form, themes and images held by Desi Writers’ Lounge. Presently enrolled in the law program at UNSW Australia, he is trying to figure out Sydney’s transport system, and his new life as a potential migrant.
