GOUACHE
 
journal
new issue
- by adrian a. husain
total read - 2193
   
 

            I

In the dark outside

the lights
are on  
of houses still awake:

luminous squares
that do not flicker
but are composed
and steeply stare

as they zigzag
describing
an even undulancy
as in a child’s

pigmented wash.
Almost edged out
against the skyline
are other houses.

Blurred
yet palpable
charcoaled hulks
confront the beach.

The ghostlier for
being floodlit, the sea
stops short.
But the waves

are real – compressed
mouths opening, black
and chill
and copiously hollow.

 

             II

City cast in shadow

caves, grottoes of dark
a dimness that slithers and clings
to walls, rugs
the contours
of sedentary things
my knee
a stack of books
and diamond-shaped wickerwork

while the rain beats
and in the hall,
touched by shards
of pale light
the floor absorbs,
oceanic,
the stairs where they turn,
banister rails
and curlicued supports
silhouetted on it hazily
before, coalescing,
they drown.

 
 
was published in November 2018
 
 
categories
 
Fiction
    Flash Fiction
    Short Story
Non-Fiction
    Essay
    Interview
    Narrative
Poetry
 
 
 
you may also like
 
NINTH LIFE
When it is time to lay the papers down, there will be no ...
 
NIMBUS
A sky marked by change alternation or pure ...
 
UNTITLED POEM
To my mother who never wrote The poems she always ...
 
 
top articles in Poetry
 
  ABSENCE IS A CIRCLE
the small bits of brick & plaster laughing in the room / above / us / become a dance in deep cold / & the gaps in our play as evening falls into darkness / deep with black
 
 
bengal lights © 2017