Across The Road - Riya Ray

For love comes slow
                along the winter passing by.
The trousers squeezed into shorts
bare thighs, slashed hands.


Such was the situation,
                fingers dipped in coconut sauce,
licking it off,
smacking double tea,
and then again passing it on.


“We do not belong here.”
“We need to move.”


This makes us dream
of vacuum and
                And nights dim.


Howl and Kaddish
from this lap to the next
                Butler slides
just above yours, and around your head.


Machines copying questions
           of collective consciousness
beeping Azadi, every now and then.


Anger, so impotent
yet,
                is burning our soul away.
Eyes dropping,
the wretched heart
Still drunk
                on ideas of yesterday’s love.


The lazy dog,
                nesting worms
and we nest, memories
unwanted, irrational emotions
                eating us up.
“Skeptic! Skeptic!”
we screamed and vowed
Yet fell into
                judgments and cynicism.


Stacks of our own thought,
drowning in the rain.


Socially unaccepted
and then the insanity
                A shrewd plan, a sarcastic laugh.
Somewhere a clam nod.


Collecting leaves,
                ignoring Raymond
we had poetry calligraphic
on blown brown sheets.


Hands touched and
eyes matched
                Accessory, hypocrisy.
We walk out and fall back

Existential crisis twenty, something.

- - -


Riya Ray is a literature student presently in the twilight zone of Bachelors and Masters. She writes poetry when life gets too much to hold inside her. Part time daydreamer and a full time Reader.