A moist breathless morning
skips listless heartbeats.
The Old old Monk lies on its side,
spent and forgotten.
An ochre hangover strums heavy—
a background score
to the memory of our torrid tonguing.
The night
and its lewd darkness
are long gone.
Dawn and slumber have ushered in
stale mouths,
dribbles of spit,
smudged mascara,
and sagging breasts.
The ice cubes
have sweated into
a pool of old water
and the puddle
of wet feels cool
in this blistering light.
You're asleep,
ugly and real,
leaden limbs thrown over me,
glasses askew—
you cut an ordinary picture
that no one wants framed.
I feel fatigue fan my innards
and sex coat my tongue.
“Now, perhaps,
is the best time
to go.”
Chandni loves dogs, stationery, and plants. When not battling the Doctoral Doldrums (she's trying to become the much-maligned, philosophical kind of doctor), she can be found fervently plotting yet another travel plan.
Tara is an aspiring artist/illustrator from New Delhi. She's not good at much else. Literature and sporadic post-hardcore obsessions keep her doodling.
Story by Jayati Ghose
Illustration by Kamal Singh
Story by Dion D'Souza
Illustrations by Devika Dave
Story by Aaditya Talwai
Illustration by Kamal Singh
