Poverty

Poverty sneaks
through her wet garment
on the terrace

she talks to herself cursing
the day she was born and left
to negotiate truths
of gender, sex and adulthood

in the middle class
one-room apartment
physical rigmarole
buries sick delight
hope of wellness
fast and Sunday mass

sink into dusk
and darkness eats
into her silence


--R K Singh
Copyright © | Year Posted 2023

Poem

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