Raining To Parch Poem by Neethu Prasanna

Before the supple clouds bubbled down the ichor

And as cats and dogs, I think you say, now they pour;

I had collected with my padlocked eyes a sky,

Strangled to electrocute, jerky with foams discharged,

Screaming in mute.



When I seemed to you that I was normal as per signs,

Like I passed through, a carwash or some falling tines;

I could hear a noise for which I owe you a pie,

To explain that it's rain, both out and in my bed,

Worth the vain.



I know nothing about the crumbs that spill as you feed,

Or the perilous bites, or the howls, oryour bleed;

I have seen perhaps the little one who stands by,

Who pops up and whose fun, as a bloated body in a sea,

Magnetically shuns.



I just know you annoy me when you bring in a coke,

A silly tin, or a stabbed juice box in the bin, to our talk,

That you allege I had emptied before the fry;

That it's me there strait, laundering with pee and pants,

Rotating straight;



That my normality keeps ticking from 150 to 250 volt,

Nonexistence exists, from 1 to 20 seconds, then to a halt;

Penumbra of the senses draws ghost to petrify,

Memories reduced to cyst, bigger than me still to grant

Freedom in a fist.



As the sky crafts a rivulet of curios down the window pane,

To my heart, onto the puncture in my bladder, to my brain,

I don't antique to match them but only sigh;

I can see them watch and I know they are there only,

Raining to parch.