Masses
that look like shapes
Shapes that attach
and do not depart
I killed a cell
on the arable soil of my finger tip
streamlined boats and mouthless doodles

There are scales,
scales that ache and itch
grafting, crawling
Holding my limp neck
like a morbid noose

There is a symphony
there is
a  Symphony in my pine nest throat
a dwelling
of a reverberation
lullaby fingers scratching,
scratching 
my peanut muscle skies

© Aakriti Kuntal

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