Treasure Island

Nikhil Parekh

(27/08/1977 / Dehradun, India)

just give me one meal


He took shallow breaths at irregular intervals,
was clad in clothes bereft of stitching,
drops of blood oozed when he coughed,
thin bones clattered when he walked,
people dispersed when he perched beside them,
the air had a stench of starved perspiration as he
passed,
white stream water transited to garbage black,
as he dipped his caricature in holy
assemblage of the Ganges,
his feet were bare, diffused into cracks as he tread on
thorns,
he hardly had saliva to spit on the earth.
{1}
Harsh sunlight days sped into sultry nights,
his shoulders drooped further with advancing age,
desires faded in oblivion, with brutal strokes of
destiny,
he had stopped seeing dreams since eternity,
his body had turned numb to pain and abuse,
he had a solitary desire to eat one full meal.
it seemed god heard his call,
far off in the park, lay sprawled left overs of bread,
prompting him to run in glee,
he devoured the chunks in flash seconds of time,
made guttural sounds while gulping tap water,
looked at the sky with fingers juxtaposed in
recesses of torn flesh,
laboured his way, for a place to sleep in the
merciless night. 

Submitted: Sunday, August 17, 2014

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Topic(s): poetry

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