Mother’s touch by Devika Mathur
Tonight, my cheeks do not wish for a repair sheet,
the tears do the remaining job
a lotion full of liquids & unwanted emotions:
No, I am not sad about myself
nor this poetry speaks of my morbid realm of listless curvature
rather, I speak of my mother’s pain again.
Her sadness spreading sheets of tranquility over my mind
like a sick step which happens again.
The sleepwalking,
The arguments about the fractured routine/
the noises of muted brain
a gallop of grain stuck to the palm.
We talk about things broken again,
things shallow.
Pain,
Walk,
Prayers,
Medicines,
We talk about our disgusts
till we wrap the shadow of our bones with pills yet again.
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