Shivapriya Surve

Wishes fall lame…
Lamington pastries pester the mind,
Mindless grows the present
The present is devoid of any surprise, It’s plain, with no mysteries
...

Can you hear my heart flutter like a bird deeply wounded,
singing with an autistic beak a frail, diaphanous tune?
Some pungent seeds have burnt its tongue,
but its eyes are all lit with the glorious reflections of their colour;
...

There, I spot us…
caught in a web
of words brash and bashful both
Here I watch us strange and quirky
...

Dead is the music of my soul,
Words wilt on faded lips
the rusty, antique heart-string
ascends to a bathos….and rips
...

Let the barren space grown between us
grow weeds…
…let the humming bird suffer a paralysed note,
Let the seasons of past glory mock me in this oblong, dismal hour,
...

As I try to devour your words,
absorb and glean,
often I hear you irate and scream....
The chill throttles the grotesque magpie
...