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
Ram Krishna Singh
(C) All Rights Reserved. Poem Submitted on 08/19/2023
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