deepundergroundpoetry.com
14:2
I had to excuse myself in the noise-get in-lock the door
of Joana's wash room while all of them including Joana
stood-sang-screamed-glasses and hands in hand
Inside it all sounded like coming from distance
I looked up and around well aware that using
someone else's washroom could be warm-
even intimate-in a rather strange way
I could see the toiletry-the astringent
the old mauve Maybelline-the scrub
with apricot-the skin lotion with
sea minerals and the face wash
And there was a jump cut in
the amphitheatre of mind
as I blinked and there was
a quick c h a n g e o v e r
where I stood in a washroom
nothing like this one-of course
but relatable-pastel-pink and all
There was a half-open wooden cabinet
I pushed with the fingers of my eyes-valium-
good-morning pills-tampons and tiny bottles of
plastic-glass with cognac-whiskey-whatnot-collectibles
gathered from trips from here-there-elsewhere and a few
safety razors-aquamarine-stylish with hair trapped in between
the blades and spots of blood-oxidized-crusted and long forgotten
how typical of a manic-depressive woman who took glum for a zone
of never-ending peace and comfort and a night of tears for deliverance
and trusted me when I had told her of my status as the Great wall of China
for she wailed-flailed-fought-slapped-hit-punched-nailed-kissed-fell silent at last
mumbling 'forgive' for what seemed like an inverted roller coaster ride in crisscrossing
loops and then I had fallen asleep-gifts unwrapped-with the first wedding card invitation
a prototype of course on which I needed her seal of approval and a ticket for two to Bali
they stayed that way of course until someone from the hospital staff took it the next day
from the stretcher her arm stared back at me-a tapestry which looked like a game of snake
and ladders-albeit one that was unplayable for she had declared herself the winner-no questions
Zenobia wilted and the eastern wind took her farther every time the earth turned until she was dust
I tried to come back to my present-another Valentine's-with gifts-gin and tonic-Joana and years in between
but then they say one who tries to escape[e the past is truly trapped there and I hated the ongoing party anyway
So I stayed there-locked in my time capsule-with the bitter aftertaste of dark cocoa-sporting my Chronometer watch
which sadly ran forward separating the fluid membrane of linear time and me while my valentine danced the night away.
Submitted for the V-Day competition.
Published 28th Jan 2012
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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28th Jan 2012 10:22pm
write sumeet. Now with that memory
how are you ever celebrating 14:2.
As always, Poet, you deliver.
how are you ever celebrating 14:2.
As always, Poet, you deliver.
28th Jan 2012 11:44pm
23rd Feb 2012 9:55am
unleashing emotive spree in minute detailing of a narrative that the reader can relate very easily --ur strengths ever Poet & here it is very vivid!
Waiting to see more of ur writes..
Waiting to see more of ur writes..
24th Feb 2012 9:50am
