A Marred Word Poem by Sayantan Bishnu

And there in a neglected corner,
Beside the transistor, whose static is spliced,
By Lennon.By Kurt.And By Bowie...
A drop of tea falls, kisses the gel, soaks it up,
A word trails away, blue swirls in a brown drop.
Blotting paper.The drop of tea is no more.
And so is the word.The sentence now seems incoherent.
A neat scribble.Marred by that drop of tea.
On the grilles, painted dull blue,
Are splotches and blisters of rust.Marks of
Adhesive tapes.Once adorned with cheap posters
Of Pamela Anderson and Brooke Shields.
It is a lonely evening.A lazy one.
Autumn is a lousy pest.Festivities and the rest.
Unfinished manuscripts, tons of them,
Panchayat of crows, on those parallel electric wires.
Eyes fall upon the page.Where once there had been a word.
The word was 'love'.The rest is left unsaid.