In verse: Confession

Ma, I think I found a name
for that sharp feeling welling up in my bosom
when my friends narrate stories of their fathers:
resentment.

Wisps

It wasn't much different from my other dreams. I was having a bad day: I'd done stupid stuff, shown poor judgement, nothing new really. And then, I saw dad following ma into the kitchen. He looked blurred, only a little, and I told myself it was just my imagination. But he felt solid enough when I grabbed his arm, and so I threw myself into his arms and cried.

The next few days, I held on to that dream when I felt lonely; it had been too long since he’d actually held me, and the dream felt more real than memories. Now that dream's faded too, and again, I am left with wisps.

In verse: PET scan

I see a horror movie, a skeleton
with bones that glow bright orange.
(they call it cancer.)

I can't put a colour on the pain.

Drabble: Charred

This one comes before Unexpected Undercurrents.

The story so far.

--.


Ashi was waiting at the door, immaculately dressed as usual. ‘You’re zippy today!’ Her tone was pleasant, and it sounded all the more accusing for that, for her roommate was unusually adrift that morning. Rohini hesitated, then spoke softly, ‘I had a strange dream last night.’

Ashi, too impatient to notice any implications beyond the words, snapped: ‘We’re already late, wake up!’

Rohini, suddenly furious at herself for bothering, threw down her comb with force and flounced out the room. If she wasn’t feeling zippy, it didn’t mean she inflicted it on others, not when she didn’t understand it herself.

#beams#

A young teapot reflects inward on its self, and its purpose.

taken from: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=10P_PC_Vjnc

pome-let.

When I die, my dear,
think of me,
a flower that bloomed
along a quiet path.



---
I wrote it about this time last year.