Icicles sleep beneath your fingers
like plateaus shaped
into mannequins of thoughts, dense and ugly
Ready to eat the world

A night sleeps in your mouth
You burp
and a star falls, collapses on the heaving stomach of Venus
A parabola of red bourbon blobs, 
A stretch mark, fissures and sleeping willow trees, prostrate and widening
Inch by inch, the standing structures 
fall, dissolve and become an abstraction
under the color of your chin, its frolicking lamp shade

You talk of death, death between fingers,
intimate as a kiss, strenuous as dandelions crossed in spark,
death as a looming light, circling all our faces but thinning only
in your eye, a membrane lipid and alive, where your lips glimmer
as ellipses annihilated, exhausted light and marching roses

You click your tongue
A hammer strikes
A man dies somewhere, an abortion occurs, a tideling drinks to itself
and your words absorb every lie 
chisel and shape all structures
into a singularity of unwavering light

© Aakriti Kuntal
( Written for a fellow poet, surrealist ) 
#napowrimo Prompt: Frost
Image: Superfamous.com
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4 thoughts on “Death Star

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