last ~ poetry

grooves on the graph of what happened

here's what's left when you grate words

against hurt : the taste of what made you

do so in the first place : grate, hurt, taste.

the color of a memory burns somewhere

on a slumped shoulder's easel : how easy

to be eased into me : dear canvassed dust.

come closer, said the origin to the end

of the x-axis : the graph's kink lay there

like a bed unmade by a man undone :

does this too denote the missing divisions

when our scales don't start from nothing?

~ ajay

31/1/2022