EROSION

She vanished a love ago

In the age of the roses

And the swans, when

The flame turned academic,

And the pupil heart

Learnt the beauty

Of a silent blow.

Thus she withered into a wife,

And nursed the protocol

In silent rage, though once

On a dark night of pain,

The hand that could not

Hold the hand in vow

Made overtures across a knife.

And now she dies, alone,

A stately, clinical death,

All signatures in tact, all

Tokens and treaties in tow;

A woman bleached white

By rectitude, and stitched

Stiff from bone to bone.

 

 

Darshan Singh Maini

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Darshan Singh Maini
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