The middle-aged man
already inebriated
staggered to the shed
where his daily drink
lay in wait.
A gulp of the dark liquid
then two more
before he realized his error
Rolling on the floor
with agony
as the pesticide ate into his innards
he suddenly recalled the ‘Weedol’ bottle
he had bought the other day
and hidden away from little eyes.
in a last lucid moment of regret,
then he became
yet another statistic
in the list of farmer suicides
All because
he had two cents of land
on which his wife grew red spinach.
©Reena Prasad



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