Next to the wheezing refrigerator

the clock ticking on a bare wall,

my eyes spilling the scent of a feast,

to the sudden nip of a shifting season.

In them the anxious unveiling of a psalm

as his lime green eyes embrace mine,

as he licks the bony fish-head with care,

as he picks it, drops it, looks, loves it,

his honey whorled head 

silently engaged in a tilted crunch

that could rip a throat in two.

Watching with bated breath

I whisk an anxious doubt,

head tilted, eyes glued,

wheezing, easing, releasing,

I crack the stubborn entrails

of a bony doubt,

a weakness splinters,

a piece of sorrow shudders, shifts,

I break into a sigh, drift into a sky,

a hunger subdued

as we lick our lips in content

to the tick-tick tick

on a bare wall.

Anuradha nalapat2022