I am your
one note song.
I am ugly,
but devoted.
Like a mole,
I try very hard to dig deep
Into the darkest recesses of your heart.
One day, I will plant a seed there,
Kick up my hind legs and drown it in mud.
A time will come
When you will wake up on a Sunday,
wander to the kitchen,
and stand there a minute, blinking and thinking of eggs.
Crisp toast and runny yellow.
You will look out at the bright blue
and suddenly feel a sharp twist
in the centre of your gut.
It is not, as you would be prone to believe-
hunger.
It is a funnyfeeling.
It belongs to the witchery inside your head.
A word will bubble through to the surface.
Clear, and plain.
Like Calibri.
And you’ll think,
Oh.
3 comments:
nice
This is the best poem you've written till date, R. Clearly tangible inspiration works for you as it does for me.
Thanks Barman. Trying to take it the other way where I actually do something productive instead.
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