Thursday, 12 December 2013

when i was young
my room had no windows
except the one
that looked on the gate
of my house. but
that one was locked
with a key that only
my mother had
and i never was able
to open it, not at all.

now i am old
and my window has
curtains that are torn
and a lock that
does not work.
the mosquitoes
treat my room
like a particularly
shabby dhaba
so while they enjoy
eating here, they do not
bother to tip the waiters.

when i die, they will
probably put me beneath
the earth, where i will be
left to make my own
windows.
then i will
look through them
and wonder where
all the sunlight has gone.

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