The nights dissolve into days and the days
fade out to nights again, some of which I admit
are fanciful but that is never said
generative in current paradigms.
When a night goes by but on this bed the page
remains too void of words, it often feels like
I am impotent or a lady of age,
who has failed to be a mother in her life!
I once believed that a full moon upon
a rain washed sky would let all your wounds heal,
like a sunrise on a white sandy beach,
until I found out, firsthand, that they don’t!
I remember it was a monsoon I prayed for
and awarded with the barrage of a depression.
I was there when the heavy clouds began to cry
waiting for the moon to shine through the thickened sky.
The night was heavy too almost wet to…
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