Sep 142010

by Mangesh Naik

No one bleeds behind the door

the stench hits me still

what fills the frame is

muscles or nothingness

I understand or do not sometimes

her dimensions suspended there

flicker of dried tongue in  morning

rest of the day is night

medicine to stitch up the brain

is all they offer and is never enough

she hurts his way through me

marble eyes , blanket apology

I too am growing with faith

in death and inheritance, mother

my pain too, will be your stare

watch muscles and bones of an air