By: Amrita Valan

Sand Deep Sans Loss

She pulls
A stoical face
Upper lip pursed
Lower lip curled.
Her grace is wooden.

Hair bonding
Medusa moments.
Coffee cup Pauses
Relaxed reveries.

The morning beaches
shored up…
Wet sand excesses
Castle building halted.

Sun lit waves recede
Into eaves
Cornices cobwebbed
Creepy eerie crevices.

The mind pockets death
Universes.

Kinky Kerr Black holes
Retain information paradox
Remains frozen
Satiated by the great tease
Of Late Hawking’s comforting
Radiation.

Nothing lost.
All accounted for.
Balance is all

No matter
Matter itself morphed vaporised

Gawking morning me
Receives what wisdom
Is available
Snatched from morning headlines.

The incessant drilled wisdom
Of a chorus of ribald reels
Trivia pursuant birds,
Laws into themselves
In the blinding light
Of this blingy
Manic universe.

###

Fridgewallah

That is all. One word is more than what I can store in my grey cells.

Because love and lust,
And retribution, rage and
Loss and …
Human emotions can become
Frozen.

Like body parts.

Thawed to do our bidding.

Make love.
Then make the cuts.
Separate divide dissassociate.

The curving knife
Held at the ready
The man of the house
Serves out such
Unjust desserts.

Mixed metaphors?
Maybe.
But who needs a curving knife
For frozen desserts?

The meat
Of this story was raw
And bloody
And messy.

Never cooked to perfection
Served up to
Voyeuristic cannibals.

They even made a facebook public group
To laugh and jest
At death wielded by a lover,
Dad’s heartbreak
And other such miseries.