quarantine curfew
couldn't contain her.
calloused toes tread
across splintered pavement
sun soaked,
steaming and
she laughs at the burn,
the silence.
a police officer swings his bat
at the vegetable vendor
sitting on the roadside before
his contraband -
potatoes, onions, coriander and
narrow watermelons.
the officer turns away from her
kajal smudged eyes,
her beet-violet mask and
dusty dupatta trailing behind her heels,
dirty but somehow more enchanting.
YOU ARE READING
Shy Anger
PoetryA collection of poems digging into the emotions and experiences that we sometimes try to hide - from love to anxiety to anger and disappointment.
