Mother’s touch by Devika Mathur
Tonight, my cheeks do not wish for a repair sheet,
the tears do the remaining job
a lotion full of liquids & unwanted emotions:
No, I am not sad about myself
nor this poetry speaks of my morbid realm of listless curvature
rather, I speak of my mother’s pain again.
Her sadness spreading sheets of tranquility over my mind
like a sick step which happens again.
The arguments about the fractured routine/
the noises of muted brain
a gallop of grain stuck to the palm.
We talk about things broken again,
We talk about our disgusts
till we wrap the shadow of our bones with pills yet again.