Tradition

Tradition

She seems eager to talk...

I can feel the vibes,

Sparks igniting...

But will this fire start

An unholy dance?

At times resolve weakens,

Then even when she smiles,

Feel like covering

The rising sun, again with

A starless blanket, 

To keep it from rising

I snuggle close

To my own arms,

To be comfortable,

Just to stay there.

Retrenchment

I lie down on bed,
Look at the row of buttons
On my shirt, in a line
Like a series of events
Unconnected, yet tied up.

After the routine temporary death
I woke up, tried to identify myself
With the help of a mirror
But couldn’t; Irises kept darting
Like caged birds.

That cage, hung on an
Emotional chain, steadied itself,
When like cattle, I consumed
Paper grass at the office, until
A shrill telephone bell announced,
Without waiting for lunch break.
Axe’s often fall here at noon.