NaPoWriMo 11 : Et tu Brute?


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Gulls in flight over Marmara Sea, Turkey                Photo credit: ReenaPrasad

Seasons


In an afternoon that wore the garb of dawn

clouds sat upon their gold
and a lone gull upon the hull
As a gull-nado swept the skies,
the boat started to rock

The ones who came with me could not stay long
The ones I found were soon lost
The ones who agreed to row
were nowhere to be seen
I became the boat
and they all-
the sea

Into the storm I went
whirled around by the waters
that had floated me before

The season changed, the migrants left
The lone gull moulted
revealing a black head
Et tu Brute?
well then, let me drown

©Reena Prasad

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NaPoWriMo 9 : Cul-de-sac


Cul-de-sac

 

How cruel I feel
when you let go of the rigid jawline
in the softness of sleep
Your cheek curving up in a dream
Your chin prickly
tattooing an imprint
on my arm
You forget that deplorable vow
of willful insouciance
and breathe your wants into my skin

Cruel because I am awake
able to decipher your body language-
hieroglyphics that conceal
dust devils of unspoken emotions
so formidable that it
latches on as blotches to my retina

and you sleep in a cul-de-sac of dreams
while I quietly transfer the ripples
your warmth evokes in me
dissolving the last resistance
of lazily erected billboards of protest
to the scattered vermillion
being sprinkled over the quiet blue sky
signaling the turn of our love-street
into yet another cup-de-sac day

where you will measure and weigh
every word and gesture
before you let me have a peep
but till then
let me gather you in and sleep
©Reena Prasad