Unanswered, Untranslatable
On her mother’s tongue, the word is “andho”
blind unseeing, blind’s undoing. Blind blind.
In her mother tongue, the word’s embedded
in the dim, inside the well deep with night.
“Andho-kar” is darkness, synonymous
with a sky scorned by stars, emptied of moon.
Memory is praise and plundered, rued, like
a yew tree fallen to blight. You see our
weather as foregone conclusion but berth
is not a birth except when it is one.
…
….
This poem is from the book Self-Portraits Ex Machina by Devi S. Laskar (Finishing Line Press), and can be found at https://www.finishinglinepress.com/product/self-portraits-ex-machina-by-devi-s-laskar/
Devi S. Laskar is a poet, novelist, artist, photographer, former newspaper reporter and lifelong Tar Heel. She is the author of two poetry chapbooks; and her debut poetry collection, Self-Portraits Ex Machina is forthcoming from Finishing Line Press. Laskar is the author of the award-winning novel,The Atlas of Reds and Blues, and recently, Circa. Her third novel, Midnight, At The War is forthcoming from Mariner Books (2026). Her debut spoken-word album is forthcoming from Someplace Called Brooklyn record label later this year. She holds degrees from Columbia University, University of Illinois and UNC-Chapel Hill. She now lives in California.
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