FULL OF FALLEN FEATHERS, REEKING OF WEEDS :: OCT 6 ::

ARYANIL MUKHERJEE

 
 

Tap the stick with care
the room’s full of fallen feathers
your hair reeking of weeds
                      and weedflowers
 
Character will, from now on, be defined by color contourlines
inside the brain that profiles our emotional country
of residence
 
It’s a saga of movement disorder
spilling everywhere over and over –
from the collective laughing in the park to
watching a purple kite’s monotony
            and listening to the same sitar refrain
            and crying in perennials, as if pseudobulbar affect
                     crying for someone who was never there
 
    a disorder, like the slow falling off
                                                     of your feathers

 
 

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