By
Ananya S Guha
Spotlights Of Disease
to begin at nothing
is a wrong starting point,
the circle of doubt is polka dotted
in transmigration of holocaust souls.
I want to be, be, be.
What is, is not
the fire in the body.
What is, is not death
but fouled carcasses
bodies devoid of history.
I want to be, be in crucifixes
of self, in edifices
of living when die is cast
nothing, beginning, ending.
Sing a dirge, litany of praises please.
Cast out the flesh, carved from the bodies
which at times transfigured into little
demons of hope.
Ominous spotlights of disease.
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