The Livid Hour Unlived, Unloved Poem by Ananta Madhavan
The Livid Hour Unlived, Unloved
In this the livid hour
He thinks of nothing
But the carapace of guilt,
Covering him and her.
He hesitates to look
Into the dark mirror
Lest he should recognise
Narcissus there. He cannot sleep
For fear of killing her in a dream.
Neither can forswear complicity
In this the livid hour.
Whose was the error
To split the ‘I' from the ‘Other'?
Monday, December 28, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: love and dreams
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4/23/2024 8:35:11 AM # 1.0.0.1119
