Poet, Author, Editor, Creative Writing Consultant

Wednesday, October 9, 2013

Check, Check

There is always room for destruction
And that is why she has become
This broken record of regret.
You cannot listen for long without saying
‘Something is on the fire,’ I have to check,
‘Someone is  at the door,’ I have to check.

You cannot let this broken record play
Its scratchy song against your ear
Though you did call to find out how she was.
You do not want to check how she is anymore
There are other things to check.
There is always room for distraction.

© Abha Iyengar, 5th October 2013