Dawn and dusks comes and goes
At 2 in the morning (or should i say night!)
I sit huddled in the balcony
My thighs tightly pressing my breast
To press down a pain that chokes my breath.
The peacock cries on—
Ugly sounds of joy and ecstasy.
A lone dog whimpers somewhere
Echoing my helplessness and vulnerability
Rain hurts him (as it needles me)
And the peacocks continue to cry—
Shrilly triumphing in its desire satisfied.
1 comment:
You write very well.
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