knife

at the dawn,

I saw the dark breaking down

by slow, simmering, shadowy light

imbuing without knowing, but feeling.

you can almost sniff it off the dewy air,

so the all the darkness withdraws away

into a tiny corner out of view

and awaits for its call

when one longs to sleep.

7.12.2024

Vignette

there is a bored sleeping pill by the lamp stand.
he can’t stand the silence of an empty room

there is a forgetful knife
by the olive wooden cutting board
she can’t recall what she’d cut off an hour ago

there is a mug cup with a silver teaspoon inside
is she waiting to be filled with warmth again?
or is she sighing at the memory of warmth?

there is a blank inked pen on a bare desk
faithfully waiting to be of use,
to spill his guts for the glory
that will be remembered in the history.

11.9.2021