Woman and Her Muse

Lopa Banerjee

Lopa Banerjee

When she speaks poetry
Wordless walls stare
Invisible, foamy dreams.
Cardboard boxes of memories
Scattered ashes, frozen in time.
Damp walls,
Begging for fresh coat of paint.
Screams on white sheets
Words crawling, ant-like
Along the contours of a white screen.
Love letters
Staggering breaths
Of a city,
Luminous smiles
Crushing weight
Of untold stories,
Hashtags and swags
Churning, the mind,
A badland, violated, unabashed.
The deconstruction of words,
Finding bounty, silence, music,
Haunted grounds,
Melancholy, hangover
In between voyages.
The artistry of an old, crumbling house,
A grand minaret,
A fallen leaf,
Or a doomed woman,
Or star-crossed lovers,
A raped, ravaged corpse
Of a girl,
Or a dead bard –
Her muse...

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