By Apabrita Mitra Sarkar
It has been a week of pettiness,
Of little scuffles in the corner,
Doodling of petty inflections, here and there
Of dearth minutely felt, only under-skin.
Of giving your name to the pushing of the bed
Or getting the last speck,
Of absent-minded genuflection to your goddess.
It has been a week, barely.
Of bird-warble fault-finding,
Tearing away slowly
Pecking incessantly at window putty or varnished door,
Open and close throughout the day,
Yes, it has been a week of you, woodpecker.
Seven days, six pills gone.
It has been a week of more and less.
A week of telling time in your gait,
And the side of the bed that speaks better.
To the invisibility of dog hair
And curtains to switchboards,
This is not distance.
But it surely has been a week, almost exact
But for a little spillage
It has been a week of blindness,
To your pond flutter and nest-building,
To stick-breaking and ravage,
In mild anger.
“Go through, go through, go out”
Of rising death counts and curves, endless.
Before and after this aspect of a storm-
It has been neither,
It has been a week.
Of more and more and more.
Apabrita is an undergraduate student of English at Jadavpur University. She usually spends her time writing and painting. She tends to focus on her lived experience as a student in India and in her personal surroundings.