Her night is red



Her earliest memory
hangs over her wish
to stab her grandma
sleeping beside
So that,
Her mom would come back
for the funeral.

She found her lost,
like an arrow in search of its prey
on those belly marks of parched earth labyrinths

A spider crawled, on the opposite wall,
dragging its egg white halo.
Posterity huddled,
Underneath.

Tomorrow,
it shall burst in the kitchen sink
like sprinkled salt, over
mushrooms bleached.

Street light poured in
through the murky ventilator,
the golden elevator, from the heavens

She flew out
of her grandma’s mosquito net
to pick up a forlorn star,
to shine above
as she red paints
her marbles
Sparkling silver.



Comments

Incomparable said…
tragic is the word that comes to my mind. almost reminded me of the small girl waiting at the door in manichitrathazhu. . . and i hate spiders, kshudrajeevi onnu extinct aayi kittyenkil ennu njan prarthikunnu :)
i perfectly understand the feelings embedded.
August 5, 2010 at 7:57 PM
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