We retrace lost smithereens
back to flailing limbs
hoping they match our last seen forms
an organ at a time
In places where skin was illuminated by stars
lie open gashes: manholes on a waterlogged day
blood spilling hate from words
we metamorphose into unwilling trolls
defacing our democracy
Trails lead us to
an erased history of first strikes
warm chaos burning in our ears
as we crumble within our borders
-30-
Copyright©Madras Courier, All Rights Reserved. You may share using our article tools. Please don't cut articles from madrascourier.com and redistribute by email, post to the web, mobile phone or social media.Please send in your feed back and comments to editor@madrascourier.com
