Ra Sh writes

Thousand ways and one way to leave

How does one leave?

By the 9’o clock Town to Town?
12’o clock Shatabdi?
3’o clock Airbus?
By road, rail, air?

How do people leave?
How did she leave?
Stepping across a terminal line of dormant deceit?
Crawling through a glass wall of dashed desire?
Slithering through a membrane of mounting misery?
Sliding through a mirror of tired dejection?
Drilling through a cavern of lost pleasures?
Wading through a sewer of shattered hopes?
Falling through a crater of simmering love?

How did she leave?

This soggy house seeps.
The air is shot with holes.
Did she leave by the cracks in the tiles?
Punctures in the drain pipes?
The dark lizard back alleys?
Gloomy rat race tracks?
Slippery catwalks in the attic?
Winding worm holes in the wood?
Ant holes in the earthen walls?
Labyrinths of termite mud?

How did she leave?

Through the short circuited power cords?
The rat-bitten cables?
The red green amber wires?
The buried optical fibres?
The ever open portals?

How did she leave my world?
How do I?

But, when I spew my bad blood,
I see her stamp on every cell.
And before I could spot her in the scan,
The clot thickens, the wound closes,
She is lost in flesh.