by Shamik Banerjee
You doted on the boy bands of the nineties.
Those chic, attractive fellas were your thing,
Whose mushy lyrics fueled your carefree twenties.
Your genre changed when you were thirty-something.
Like ecdysis, the old fad shedded off.
Nu Metal; Goth—became your newfound voice.
At those old heroes, you began to scoff,
“Who listens to such mawkish, beardless boys?”.
This was ten years ago. Your husband’s gone.
You play the mild stuff now: Sting, Elton John,
Loathe when your kids tune in to Hardcore Punk,
Head to the cockloft, open up the trunk
That’s labelled ‘Macy’s Gems’, and gently, then,
Dust off your Backstreet Boys and Boys II Men.
Shamik Banerjee (he/him) is a poet from India. He resides in Assam. His poems have appeared in Fevers of the Mind, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, and Westward Quarterly, among others, and some of his poems are forthcoming in Willow Review and The Ekstasis Review, to name a few. Find him on Instagram @where_tales_end.
