screwed (ii)

054

waking up,

riding through
a dream’s galloping pace,
i wonder

if i bypassed my need
to be touched,
strung like a kite
against the face
of a shy-sky —

his eyes an empty-colour of opportunity, my skin,
a canvas bled —
the night lingered

like a lizard, in the thrall of a fly,
hovering over my lips.

© Anmol Arora

A 55-er for Art FLASH at WRT
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14 thoughts on “screwed (ii)

  1. sanaarizvi says:

    Wowww! ❤️ This is incredibly potent in its brevity and depth, Anmol! I held my breath throughout the poem especially here: “his eyes an empty-colour of opportunity, my skin, a canvas bled —the night lingered.” You never cease to amaze me 😀

    Like

  2. Kerry says:

    his eyes an empty-colour of opportunity…. Wow!

    I really appreciate the was you have constructed the sentences, and placed your phrases. It makes for a kind of expectancy, perhaps a fear of somethiing NOT happening.

    Like

  3. Susie Clevenger says:

    “strung like a kite against the face of a shy-sky ” Oh, I love that. It can be scary when we fall out of a dream.

    Like

  4. What I like most about this poem, Anmol, is the delicacy in the layout, the spacing and line breaks, and the way they underline your description of the need to be touched:
    ‘strung like a kite
    against the face
    of a shy-sky’
    the turning point in a relationship.

    Like

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