The fall [poem]

my father-like fingers, hands
protruding veins, short nails, tips
red, holding, entangling in
pushing aside you sweaty hair
colored like a taupe rabbit
soft like an underbelly
quick to cut, to bleed
my mother’s mouth, lips wet, warm
whispering breath, apology song, tears
on your face, now quivering
bruised from the bang on
marble floor, your head
throbbing, turning blue, growing
in the quiet aftermath

jaisalmer fort, rajasthan india // march 2019

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