A Killer

I wanted to kill you for what you did to me, were doing night after night. After you left, I curled up on the wooden settee with its sagging plastic weave work, the eight'o' clock power cut hiding my discomfiture. The front door stood ajar. A pale yellow moon sliding across the navy blue sky did nothing to comfort me for the sounds played over and over again in my mind, blood red fear rustling its cruel wings somewhere too near.

I kept well away from the big burning candle watching lover after lover come dashing and burn their wings, killed by their flame. Somewhere in me the emptiness sang an elegy, to the strength in your arms, the comfort of your chest and the laughter in your eyes. And I wanted to kill you all over again for doing this to me.

As the shadows deepened and gathered behind the cowshed to whisper their dark secrets and to wait it out till the eastern sky split to let the silver and gold in, I crept into the room where we spent the first night. Your mother lay on the medium sized bed, her chest heaving in rhythm to the slight movement behind her closed lids. The overhead fan groaned loudly over the endless revolutions of its blades and thankfully masked the creak of the bed as I got on it, holding my breath.

There was a large sheet with me under which I hid, its ends tucked under my head, my toes and also at the sides, leaving no part exposed for my night isn't as brave or bold as the day. The sounds of flight and pairs of yellow rimmed red eyes crept into my thoughts and I snuggled close to the old woman, trying to smell you somewhere in her olfactory aura of ayurvedic oil and allopathic balms but then she turned in her sleep and put a thin, strong arm over me and I am safe for this night, my fears tip toeing off in the stream of moonlight from the half open window. Snuggling into the warmth of safety, I sleep.

The murder can wait till tomorrow but how I hate you for leaving me in this state of terror in your house and going off alone.


Did you know there are cockroaches in the bathroom too?

 

Trivandrum/ Kerala/India

Reena Prasad is a poet from India, currently living in Sharjah (United Arab Emirates). Her poems have been published in several anthologies and journals e.g. The Copperfield Review, First Literary Review-East, Angle Journal, Poetry Quarterly etc. She is also the Destiny Poets UK's, Poet of the year for 2014 and one of the editors of The Significant Anthology released this year.--