I smoke
the moments like fireflies
watch them wander
pick and eat
my throbbing wine nest

I cross fingers
knit a warm puddle
seize
the incense
         of departure
(Watermelon seeds on roasted skin)

My lips are a henna castle
crisp and charred
lumps of  flying calendars
gravity wars and columns of decay
Do you see
the nets wilting ?
spooning like mushrooms beneath my ear

My chest is an almond,
chipped and whipped
smouldering autumn grains
Heaps
and coins
A  deafness,
syllables running dry
plating
like autumn hands within washed tendons

© Aakriti Kuntal
Picture : Aakriti Kuntal
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4 thoughts on “Linger and Throb

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