death lifts its shroud
but there is nothing to be found inside —
who would i mourn?— i have no
temporal recollection — childhood-
paper-cuttings are fading, news-
print almost illegible — i do not
know how to react after someone
dies —
i bring a veil of pallor on my face,
my candy-lips quiver, a heat passes
through me, as if to denote the contrast
of my temperature — blood rushing
as a reminder, but life exists within me.
so i close my eyes, &heart — let moments
pass before it all starts to seem ordinary —
unoriginal, repetitive, coming daily
unlike some newspapers.
.
© Anmol Arora
Day 24
(Inter)National Poetry Month
HA's Place 