by Anindita Sarkar
There is something coming,
Coming to stifle my sobs,
my worries, all my perils.
Mama, is it you?
I can sniff your strawberry lips
brushing against my pallid cheeks
while you see me flare and recede,
gasping for breath in the subtle quiet
of the intensive care unit,
I wish to initiate a conversation
but the pain overrides my syllables,
the virus gnaws on me impatiently.
Is it the lustre of the stars that have faded,
or is my vision receding?
This place is murky
a sea of patients battle over the air,
the hearse screams unsubdued,
the ambulance siren roars vividly
disturbing my sleep.
Mama sing me a lullaby
I wish to sleep, follow you to the celestial arc
and never rise to entertain the new morning.
It brings me so much joy to be near you.
Anindita Sarkar is a Research Scholar from India. She completed her MA in English Literature and is presently persuing her Mphil Degree from Jadavpur University, India. Her works have appeared in Indolent Books, Door is Ajar, Litbreak, The Bombay Review, Bosphorous Review, among others.
