The Poor by the Sea, Picasso
As the city sleeps
I camouflage and dance like the birds
the birds from my last evening:
a banter through the walking steps
a fever and a hiccup to suggest,
dreams about metaphors taking shape
mauvy, reddish-brown floral abstract gowns
with a ‘kolhapuri’ jutti-
my dreams are aimless, just like my vast eyes of the storm
Hopping into the lands of Gods and gardens
a myriad of colorblind views,
my dreams expand like people
below
and above
underneath the ink and soil, if you know:
distant- through the rubber gloves
through the mirrors of the fallen forest,
my dreams are colorless and tireless,
just like a glare.
As the city sleeps,
stiff as a twig, I slip from sideways
into the morning leaf’s shadow.
The season has turned its back.
To the doors of nature
A nimble sniff
Of nature and its friends
A chirp that stirs the heart
Cloudburst;
A song of rain
as it slips upon my bosom
I shout that I care
I care about my fields, the water ripples
comfort about the sky watching,
I shout,
about the mountains scrabbling
Exotic,
prosaic
Nature- an ocean of transparency.
Snowdrops,
Sweet candle wax on toes
that utters the travesty of plant & wood,
A ladybug visits me often
I call it my only friend
The only 'temple bell' to defy the pain.
Nature- I am so tiny.
So tiny to speak
A moisture-laden substance,
unknown
formidable.
Sickening moth on the soil.
Oh! I wish to rest now
along with your shores
quietly.
Bio: Devika Mathur resides in India and is a published poet, writer, editor. Her works have been published in Madras Courier, Modern Literature, Two Drops Of Ink, Dying Dahlia Review, Pif Magazine, Spillwords, Duane's Poetree, Piker Press, Mojave heart review, Whisper and the Roar amongst others. She is the founder of the surreal poetry website "Olive skins" and writes for https://
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