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Waters, juicy chambers,
Devouring hungry tongues,
Amidst media prattle
on feets and inches.

Smell of flesh
Raw life, blooded water.
Shrieks and shouts-
For the child, the dinghy.

The boatman's voice-
"Lie down, lie down."
A body bloated
Floated by the shore,
Someone dear and loved.

Death by water.
A mother's wailed lullaby
As the current carries
An only child.

Clouds burst again into
Pellets of rain;
While, rescued ones
They sit on scum
And dream about lives.

Girls in hostels, airlifted
with morning dew-
their nighties drenched in shutter-shock.

Auto-rickshaw, stranded,
Dashed to the median.
Wicker baskets inside brim
of red blood tomatoes
trembling in the rain.

Glasses splattered;
Shimmering in the sun,
lost their glaze with the rain.

Gifted tilapia, dazed
gobbled in salt water, musing
about fresher days.
Wednesday, January 22, 2020
Topic(s) of this poem: death

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4/19/2021 1:31:08 PM #