Sunday, July 27, 2014

The stalemate.

A pile of bones lie sprawled across the bed,
Uncertain of their next move, you watch them closely.
You’ve been to the movies; you’ve seen what they can do.
If only they could lie still.

From dawn to darkness, they lie there donned in fidgety skin,
Gazing at you jabber about the weather while you sip your tea.
You eye them stringently and hold them tight, lest they stir;
Their sudden lurch is upsetting.

They have their place set aside, in a penned up stalemate.
Yet, they stroll towards you, oblivious to your jitters,
Unaware of your sinful desire to look away,
To swab down what’s tainted and wipe that grin completely.

*This poem is a part of the compilation ‘Filth’*

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