Cowrie
Dec 30, 2023
That is how he tasted her:
A Bronte bookmark pressed inside
A coffee spilled journal.
On July evenings like these
He visits chrysanthemum florists
In a nausea of conceited glee
Takes on random lovers one after another
Wounding them with a dentist’s precision.
She is pretty macabre herself
Working with words
Like cutting chainsaws
Hoping to shed tears
Through quirky-dwarfgestures.
The sea is her OCD:
It eclipses her
From his half-baked-snowy
Mountain topped monologues
Where she had once dwelt
Queen-like-happily-forever-after-ever.
He is quite a cowrie paced mole inkling on her tongue.
©2023 Kaustabh Kashyap.
