False Awakening

Neither from the East, nor from the West, or even from the South comes the nights messanger draped in darkness slipping in through the curtains and glowing in the darkness.

His white coat and blue eyes settle as he steadies and prods the quilt, making his own bed where my legs part beneath the heavy cloth. Sleep takes a hold of him and I notice the coldness on my flanks. I slip away from the warm bedding and pull at the door handle. Outside is a fresh kind of air that reminds me to breath, deeply and rapidly. I start to wonder if I was breathing at all.

I place glancing caresses over my plants and flowers too early yet for dew. Even the bats are asleep and night owls don’t seem to stir, unmoving behind bright windows. I turn back and see nothing, melting, pooling into my bed. I fall and fall till I wake up with a start, even more sleepless than before. My cat is gone and a feline sized gap is pushed into my window.

Moon Lit

Fast like the falling leave in

razor like winter breeze,

falls the night sky.

 

Quickly flows in the night-

moving shadow flowers,

the crescent moon beams.

 

Everything I touch

with tenderness, alas,

colored by moon light.

Yet Another Story About You

You should have known then, that this day wasn’t going to be like any other day. You remembered that day well, when you lent back and stared at the revolving fan and thought that this was the beginning of a story, a story about you.

You were like any other cubicle slave- you went everywhere in overpriced cabs, you saw the world through your corner office window. You were a success or at least that’s what you liked to tell yourself. But one day began a story, a story about you.

You’d picked up your phone and called your fiancee Linda, but she didn’t answer her phone. You called all your tie wearing friends but they didn’t answer either. You walk to your closet but no coat would stay on. You walked down the street and no one saw you. You walked and walked and found a village when you no longer had shoes.

There they saw you but said nothing, after all this is a story about you. You stayed amongst them; maybe one day you’d be one of them. You listen carefully to their silence as they sipped tea and smiled, their little mustaches smiling too. You realize the sun was setting and the villagers fleeing.

You are soon alone in the dark dirt road with a million stars above you. You don’t care, you aren’t afraid, after all, this is a story about you. You walk towards the bright crescent moon above you, off the road and into the fog you hadn’t noticed between the trees before. You don’t know where it goes because this is a story about you.

At The Match

Above the filling clusters of people,

fluttered moths and insects of night

in the revealing rays of stadium light,

who care not for the flight of beetles

when echoed growls follow the rite

and crackles of colored light,

while monsoon brought no evils

only drizzle colored grey against night.