Estranged Poem by Rizu Sekh

Last night, a nightmare jolted me awake,
a familiar ache gnawed at my chest,
a shiver, shaking every nerve,
Like poison threading my veins.
The dawn was near; as I seldom remember,
that half-remembered dream;
A dream, haunting my soul;
In its endless returns.


A twirl of a vintage echo,
the one, I wish the time would spare;
Wine poured in twin flutes,
a garland of Black Madonna kept neatly;
on a cluttered tea table: beside which,
We unfolded the petals of our fiery fervour.


An anklet foot, delicate as a spring flower,
a slender body; softly sculpted curves of beauty
and the crimson lips, tender kisses; ignites,
the flame of passion's subtle spark.


Picking myself off the bed, I heard--
the newspaper man, knocking a daily
on the dusty window pane.
With heavy head and tipsy toes, I looked out,
To see, the flowers, all dead and grey;


Soon the dawn breaks; and
the twilight crept in to see,
My room, a canvas of despair-
A dusty, foul scent dances upon the stagnant breeze,
The Classics, lie scattered on the floor;
Empty bottles, wandering, a Colt 1903;
And a pale body, lying cold.