• Vol. 09
  • Chapter 01

oh dear

ms Luna has lost it yet again, at dusk
the flaky letter sepiated by heaviness
of steeping earl grey, at five, for two
this time, she says it fled with the wind
that whispered something about today
and threatened to jump off the ledge
only to let the veil of woe flutter briefly
before dissolving into the thickest air
someone wanted to call up the doctor
but they recalled the homely remedy
of loss being consoled by the mirror or
by the fleeting caress of shiny shards
that once had cut ms Luna too deep
only to be gauzed in gold by the nurse
while the maid swept away the tears
in throes of threes, when one comes
to think of anguish, of grief, of waiting
in separation overdue during the war
like a story: the daily pestling of hunger
witnessed by sisters who also reckon
the many ways in which silence creeps
into the keeping room like sympathy
drawn to flow into the silken horizon
ms Luna has lost it again, at nightfall
this time, she runs across the reeds
free, wild, quavering past an old song
while the eyes linger upon loose hair
echoing: time gave her distance when
all she ever needed was some love but


oh dear

we all know when mortal words falter
the cat doesn't speak for the last rays
of hope, we know nothing much today