Breathless

1

Fine strands

they chase the wind

murmurs on invalid lips

Insidious

When she’s gone

her ashes buried

will you forget

the things she’s done

or will they remain

under someone else’s

bedsheets

rekindled

breathless

under the wings of the sky

2

David

“Dignity of labour”

Arousing were his hypocritical

Words

Sometimes it is easier

to conjure someone else’s

reality- though,

is a reality conjured

a reality at all? 

That one pulsing vein-

pride of place on his

temple that teemed with

ideas: an anomaly

I can smell his sweat-

raw on the tongue

and on the nose

Our creation-

A bazaar of spices

like varnish on

wooden floor