a stray flower in dumping grounds
is a stray incident.
look down as you walk the lanes
from the crevices
of indebted lives
peep the dreamy flowers
to be squashed
by BIG feet,
to be cajoled into a bowl
in a funny residence
where laughter thaws the crude snow blades!
just a stray co-incidence i would say,
so just look down
as you brush the deadness from the green
the nauseating soil is the skin in the sun.
It alarms you -
the ghosts of the dead dry leaves
throb in your green manicured hearts!
oh, just a stray incident i would say,
so simply look away as you dress the mannequin
there is nothing but a mirror in the bed,
distorting the face
into a familiar mask ...
oh, get over it!
It’s just a stray incident ,
a deadly petty coincidence i would say.
© Susmita Paul 2010