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◊ BY RUTAKSHA RAWAT (© Benefit Publishing Pvt Ltd)

 

BITING INTO MY DISAPPOINTING MARCH MANGO,

WHICH PREVIOUSLY HOBNOBBED WITH ARSENIC

SO IT COULD LURE ME BEFORE SEASON.

WHOSE MOTHER CRIED IN VAIN

THE DAY IT RAINED PESTICIDES.

 

TO REPEL PESTILENT BEASTS AND KEEP HER BABIES SAFE

FOR MY CONSUMPTION.

AND SHE SPROUTED FROM SEEDS OF POISON HERSELF

WHICH LAY IN A BED OF BURNT OUT SOIL

DECREPIT FROM YEARS OF CHEMICAL BACCHANALIA

AND TOOK ROOT.

 

TO DELIVER THE CANARY GEM I HOLD IN MY HAND

WHICH CRIES BITTER TEARS OF POISON INSIDE ME

DRIVING ME TO WONDER, HOW LONG I HAVE.

HOW LONG DO I HAVE?

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