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the falling


had hair like snakes in a braid
then loose over her face like longitudes
mapping the change in time by degrees.

eyebrow all the trees blurring by
on a train ride to the next station.

the shape of her bones.

tears late rain the shape of commas
full-stops growing tails like tadpoles
smudged by a wet touch.

not goddess anymore her name
is muttered half-mouth the distance
of vowel roundness at a certain age

all the hairfall the autumn of mouth
& all its sounds going inwards
at the machine of its birth
in a mechanical wave.

the roundness reduces
a rock pebbled in a river.

a soap touched over & over again.


~Ajay
17/12/2019

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