Sunday Poem By Debarati Sen

I hide consonants under broken finger nails

I hide consonants under broken finger nails
and deliver a bravura performance.
No, you cannot decipher my fatigue.
I dress up spectacularly
bathed in turmeric yellow
like a wedding ritual.
With my metaphoric verses I paint the sky’s tripod extravagantly baroque!
Neon coloured tinges are strewn across the horizon’s bosom.
Just like my broken nails tinctured with the coral blue nail paint.
Hiding a million consonants beneath its hue.
With pebbles inside my pocket
I relentlessly stare at the ethereal skyline.
It looks like a tumbled bottle of exotic Petite Sirah!
A new day has come!
Bearing the fragrance of new hopes.
Silently I sit on my old wooden chair
Hoping for the rain to wash this world off its pandemic.
Time stands still.
Like a spring evening
that has come empty handed.
I check my nails
Its time for a manicure.
But before that, I need to hide my consonants somewhere else!
Slowly, I pack them in a metal box
and throw them away in the sea of esoterica
till my nails grow back again.

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