Poppies in December

Flowers come to mind for some reason

poppies, cactus in December

spaces silted with darkness

I didn't know I liked the Sun

Until today

A multi-colored chart without boundary

The day

Not quite dawn. The plain white stare.

I go out walking

somewhere along with my loneliness

narrow streams running through

decayed tooth

River water mixed with my eyeballs

Somewhere is

Someone

saying my poems?

Traces that stir

the waves of an old affair.

All day is stoic,

At dusk I wake with eyes wet.

I carry that and go off to bed again.

By Devika Mathur

From: India

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