Mother's Postcard
The postcard was blank as words were eaten by the new moon. Day was Amavasya! I would have located the address rolling in the virtual rings of ethereal atoms. But stony sisyphus came to rest under the bawdy sun and his shoulders were bruised in a trailing salty brook.
“ Keep this one for a brief time”
I took the gravitating stone on my chest. Dark was so compressed that all twitterers were shut in the twilight and I awoke in my wrinkles. It was not a dream or hypnagogia, too much for my crushed chest. I saw the words on the pale postcard.
“ she died the previous night”.
Copyright@Dr Pragya suman
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