Tender Souls

Poem I Abhishek

Photo by Sugandha Agnihotri

Quiet Quiet 

It's midnight

the city sleeps, 

Creeping 

crawling beneath the sheets, 

fluttering, shivering, 

breathing shamelessly 

in the face of tragedy, 

the city is yours, 

the city is mine. 

Among all the chaos –

we stand tall on our amputated legs, 

sniffing dirt 

in meth labs, 

choking on your friend's blood, 

raining ghost crabs 

on our front porch, 

punctured lungs of your neighbor

and revolting walls,

the city cries with all its might. 

We try to grab life with its throat,

it laughs at us, 

with crooked teeth 

and sharp elbows. 

Oh lord! 

Please take care of my friends

they have tender souls.