I live in a suitcase like a contortionist,
A tiny life in circadian rhythms,
The tattered non reality,
A salacious scandal within the cracked shanty walls.
These cracks will come undone soon
With the slime in a furious downpour.
I am turning into a mass of silver
Over the serpent hairlines on the forehead
Like consecrated birth smudges.
I am ether now.
I live on air.
I live in a Pollock maze in my head.
CRUNCH IN THE SKULL
I once caught grandfather's cukoo bird
And firmly latched her wooden songs-
Jarring jingles of women's clocks.
She sings now in subdued tones,
Raising alarms of the great crunch,
A constant pecking at my skull.
I don't know when spring and fall had became
An unrecognizable mess within.
I walked around with clogged openings.
I could no longer make out the
Creamy fragrance from woody scent of the withering.
When I felt your furtive presence in the corneal corner,
I knew it was more than a chance encounter
With a stranger on the platform.
You were the bleary, beady destination
I had lost faith in,
I somehow managed to miss,
Always boarding the other train.
The destination it would take
Many a beaten paths to reach-
Sighing I left it behind yet again,
Basking in the lassitude of reawakening ...
Malkeet Kaur resides in Mumbai, India. Though she works as a teacher and passionately loves her profession, she writes poems too. Many of her poems have found places in various anthologies and online journals- Episteme, Degenerative Literature, Barking Sycamores, Acerbic Anthology against gender violence, Twist of Fate- charitable Anthology,Yellow Chair Review, The Awakening of She,The Significant Anthology, to name a few. Her poems are mostly existentialist and feminist in nature.