Poetry 2016 Featured Garima Behal

Cadaver

Termites gnawing at wood, the never ending pain

of unspoken poetry

                                   (chipping away)

buried like breath

stilled beneath

                                   layers and layers

                                   and layers and   

                                    layers of layers  

of death, in a grave

                 discarded even by guardian angels...

The loss

      of wings, and halos, and hope

      and faith, and prayer, and good times

                         spread like the remnants of b-r-o-k-e-n china-

an effort to piece it all together

against the thumping walls of my heart

                results

                                in jagged edges

                                piercing the valves;

                fountains of blood, blood-red,

                tumble out of white wrist razor marks.

Unloved:ness.       

The onslaught of thought.

Termites crawling over a discarded grave.

       Termites chewing at my brain.

                 Termites gnawing at wood –

                                                    this never ending pain.