DECEMBER POETRY

Wasted

By

Mohana Das

the miles are overgrown.

in seconds yellow bicycles zap
through and lightening fills
fragile firefly

mouths stuffed with mothballs
taste of rust metal
tingling aloud all across

assymmetric milkweed cacophony,
guitar debris and
dripping tempera swabs,
torn deep

like fillet wounds.
i excel at bleeding
on the disinfected inside

Loss

By

Mohana Das

emptiness expands-
outside winter coils
in tap roots

the hearth gapes
retinal aberrations draw
networks of vacancy

i can sense her
in folds of intuition-