ময়ূরাক্ষী

Thursday 17th July 2014

I have a river.

It's hidden in a pocket in my grey.

Filed carefully in heavy metal boxes.

Right next to the confusing statements about love,

And frothy ocean side sprays,

Of the time we lay on sidewalks and watched

the stars aging.

The river controls me.

Days on end its liquid infects me.

In monsoon it ingests its banks and becomes a monster.

Infested with pinks and purples

Lotuses, conveniently staging the monstrosity as reverence.

My river has a course, all of its own

Forgets it resides solely in my mind.