Sully my dull metronome moments
With abject precipitate
Pure and copious
Let dullness be relegated
To monarchs
And this beggar maid
Follow the arrhythmia
Of her heart.
Nothing lost
In slice of time
Irrelevant
You chase success
Over such impossible
Mountains
I watch my eggs
overdone easy
Run over our
Daily bread,
Oftentimes
My prayers said
Are sweet nothings
To four winds instead,
The incensed heart
Rages
And longs to sully
Itself
Sin and shame
Were never
A heritage
But accrued
Precipitate
Just the same beats of variations
Changing my poem
Of a thousand
Metronomes
Just my mundane life
Making up for
Lost moments...
I get it,
This sunny drawing room moment
When sparrows fight over
Crumbs of my broken bread
But lying in yesterday's unmade
Bed
I cry in syncopated sobs
In my maddening head
The crests and troughs undulate
But refuse to pause
Or understand.
© Amrita Valan 2015
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