red vines pop against walls,
unspin themselves
off gravity, then falter
like a pair of pin-hole eyes.

she wears her scars agape-
an unmoored Arachne- spins
metamorphosis down her
dystopic limbs.

this march is cold.

clouds wilt with grace.
i feed on a carcass of air.

©Mohana Das

Photo: Deconstructing the spiral


12 thoughts on “march

  1. I’m actually intrigued by this abstract ~ I specially like the wearing of scars agape & clouds wilting with grace ~ Sharp imagery in your short verses ~

    Thanks for participating & wishing you Happy Week ~

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