2304 by Mansi Arora

Updated: May 17, 2019


Art by Annie

//Palpitations 1/4//


I had lost my key this morning

Got locked out and could not

Remember if I’d forgotten it

Inside

Or it just fell out of my wallet

Like a pale autumn leaf

Or a soon to be broken heart

While my right hand rattled the lock in vain,

Every thirty seconds

My left hand went to the wallet

In the back pocket of my jeans

To check on the ticket stub from last Saturday

It is Monday now

The ink on that stub has smudged a little

I wonder if this city contains any locksmiths at midnight

……………………………


//Palpitations 2/4//


I’m walking the same weary roads

Which now seem daunting strangers

Without the sound of your flip flops grounding me to their concrete

How ridiculous.

I shake my head

Hoping that the thoughts of your flip flops would trail down the strands of my hair

And fall off

Like dew drops fall from the tips of November grass but

They freeze halfway.

I guess winter has come a bit early this time.

I decide to cut my hair to at least half it’s length

And wonder if the city contains any barbers at midnight

…………………………………..


// Palpitations 3/4//


My fingers are shivering as I write

In the afternoon sun about

The cold, dark night

That I’m waiting for

With every burn

That breathing gives to my skin

When I think of the approaching spring.

Rhymes are funny.

Sometimes

They appear out of nowhere like a rare dragonfly

As summer slowly creeps up to winter from behind

And makes it jump

Like a mischievous wretch

My fingers are shivering through the dusk into the night

As I think of the last time I made you jump like that.

You refused to talk to me for hours.

I wonder if the city contains any doctors at midnight

……………………………………..


//Palpitations 4/4//


Red Orange Yellow Blue

Touch Press Pierce Drag

I realized that, after all,

The movement from light to dark

Dark to light;

It’s a four step process

From the opening of the scene

To the clink of the dagger as it falls on the floor

How absurd

As I lie in the kitchen

Bleeding out memories

Colored by the beeping of the oven

I can see that we fade away in the same colors, my memories and I

Red hot iron

A pair of orange scissors

A small vase holding yellow daisies

Blue heartbeats.

I wonder if the city mourns at midnight.


Read more of Mansi's poems here. Discover more of Anima's artworks here.

 
 

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