The blazing pupil of her eye, Contracting- Expanding
Souls of two boats of the river,
And she crouching over, knitting or sewing.
those boats are now into saline waters, sinking.
Her koo-koo voice is now dry and hoarse,
On which once floated lullabies galore.
Her tendril fingers used to brush through
My hair and doze me off to an addictive calm.
Now, life escapes these hands. Its fingers
Recline extraordinarily entangled in her lap.
The pallu I once pulled and hid behind,
He ripped that apart, the animal.
The bosom that’s was pillow to my dreams,
He rubbed it grim, the traitor.
The moon she used to be, is no more.
What occupies her thoughts is my cause of anguish
For once she occupied me in her cosmic womb.
She has seen me change,
“Metamorphose onto a bug”
As I saw her amended, become diminutive.
Elaborate pain hugs me to see he pale pallu now,
Her bosom with broken heart,
And still but unresponsive eyes.
She is stoic as I venture into by lanes of anonymity,
Her benign figure bedecked in my memory of odds.
Unhurriedly, each day passes and time grows
Into years of inappropriate events.
And blaring silence of hers continues to drill
Commotion into me.
The Hussshhh. . . hisses and crawls
Not like a snake but worms,
As slimy as the insides of my brain, and intestines.
The Hussshhh. . . of hers assaults and takes over me.
I, bequeathed with void, make haste to discharge
The degenerative fluids, all in hushed moans.
Abrupt noise dismantles the silent guild I haunt.
But oh! There, I hear laughter daunt,
Coming closer and closer
Stimulating me to degenerate
To rip, to rub and to terminate.
This woman is not my mute mother.
But her noise bleeds my ears
And seeps like acid into my slimy brain,
The rotten but moist walnut!
I take possession of her and she stops.
And then scatters into screams.
Oh! This noise shakes my contained bugs of turbulence.
Arousing me to extremes
Turning silence into violence,
Turning a corpse into a beast.
The earthy brown pupil of hers meets mine, the blinded ones.
They expand-contract too, but in flustered terror.
I feel her bosom, thundering against mine.
Her fear felt familiar.
Her petite being trembled like
The shriveling moon, among the deceptive clouds.
But she is not mute,
Neither was the koo-koo once.
