moon-less

“i am done with you,”

the moon said to the poets
and disappeared.

who will now take the shape/size/stigma
of a wiling metaphor,

for the face of the beloved,
for the lip-service of madness,
for the tongue-tied tears of memories,
for the handheld company of solitary souls,

gazing through a window-screen
at a moon-less sky?

.
© Anmol Arora

A 55-worded verse for Weekend Mini-Challenge: Strange News at WRT

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on panic

i am running
from this fever, from this chase,

i am wringing cold hands that have shriveled
in the non-appearance of a lofty moon
that i have envied from the beginning,

i am lighting, lighting another difficult breath
before the mist sets in all the spaces, and take
it away, leaving me aching for sun & rain.

i think that the laugh is often the loudest,
after an early intake of poison —

the dark sky is not my friend, the passing steps
are not my enemy, the half-mast heads do not
look at me — a new stranger in a strange world
with a side-glanced smile, a fine-frosted figure,
fearing fire, blue in its soft touch on my skin.

the evening races through this course of fright
as i keep rehearsing the lines, repeating ritualistic
words and intonations to control the panic,
plural and passive in its grip on my chest,

still trying to run, from you, from all of you,
from the shadows of these days,

and saving a little of madness in my tiny fist,
and a little more of kismet where perchance
none exists.

© Anmol Arora

Image source (No more than thoughts and Pain by Oscar Orellana)
An accompaniment to on loneliness and on self-sabotaging
Linking it up with the Tuesday Platform at With Real Toads

Had a conversation with the ever-wonderful Sherry at PU, wherein I share a bit about my life, interests, inspirations, believes, et al. I guess I shared more than I intended to do. Ha! You can give it a read here. If you would like to communicate or exchange ideas with me, you can reach out to me on Gmail or Instagram.