Tuesday, 1 September 2015

Poetry 2015, Featured Writer Namitha Varma Rajesh

Carcass of a Self

I cringe when I touch it.
Shrivelled,
crumply,
putrid remains
of a self.
Wandering in the corridors of my inner being,
this was the last thing I thought I’d see.
I watch amazed,
amused,
appalled –
unsure of how to react to the rotting remains
– a part of me I never knew existed.
Transfixed, I sit
in a corner, staring at this carcass,
too scared to leave,
too afraid to touch it.

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