Form out!
Just that the gallery cries out
With its dull silence.
The commentator’s box too
With its loud cackle.
So says the ball
Getting out of hand
And in the field, slipping down
Into a silly drop.
The pitch refuses to take me in
Telling the same thing.
And the bat follows suit
Damp and slippery in the grip.
In the end the scoreboard too
With an invincible duck-
‘You are out of form!’
‘You are out of form!’
And something in me too
Catches up the refrain.
Then I drop the bat
And walk down the memory isle
Where my form had gone
Which shook the galleries once
Harking to the flapping wings
Of the phoenix in my dreams.
