Stigmata

So what if the clouds are grey

The shining stars shimmer through,

A distant violin weeps

In the eerie silence..

A spotless white buck sits

On the nose of a pitch dark boar

And devours burning charcoal..

Birds are shivering of the icy river

And a crocodile swims in my hot soup..

Some pages of a half burnt book

Flutter in my hollow vacuum

Stigmata!


Note: This poem was published in the literary journal Muse India