A Slumber did my Spirit Seal

Udita Banerjee

I keep straddling between caffeinated words.

My fingers are anaemic.

I sleep.

 

Evenings zoom into the hollowed darkness of grief.

Strangers walk all over my dusty shroud.

The lilies on the shelf look like dangling large insects.

I sleep.

 

An old woman lulls me into hysteria.

I sleep

With invisible blood on my shoulders.

 

Poet’s Note: I want to thank my friend, Aniket Roy, for all his suggestions.