had hair like snakes in a braid
then loose over her face like longitudes
mapping the change in time by degrees.
eyebrow all the trees blurring by
on a train ride to the next station.
the shape of her bones.
tears late rain the shape of commas
full-stops growing tails like tadpoles
smudged by a wet touch.
not goddess anymore her name
is muttered half-mouth the distance
of vowel roundness at a certain age
all the hairfall the autumn of mouth
& all its sounds going inwards
at the machine of its birth
in a mechanical wave.
the roundness reduces
a rock pebbled in a river.
a soap touched over & over again.
~Ajay
17/12/2019
YOU ARE READING
bliss station ~ poetry
Poetry~ where is your bliss station / you have to try to find it ~
