Arun Budhathoki
 


The Avenger



The charmer stands outside the door, thorn-hearted, shimmering in wolf's
skin.

Cupboards bear artificial children

I am the grandfather of wastes

Dump the rotten history on me

The door is hell-mouthed

Bringing in Lucifer's legions

There's a sound of hell

There's a sound that pursues like hell

There's a sound that kills you like hell



Empty is the room

Empty is the mechanical mind

Black towel hangs on the door, wardrobes stand tall shamelessly,

Black wardrobe exposes its viciousness, bed sleeps succinctly,

The uncouth carpet appears mild,

The furrowed blinds dangle showing the muddy diamonds,



The charmer sits inside the room, rose-hearted, shimmering in sheep's skin.



Eight-eyed, eight-legged, eight-mouthed

Eight the number of hell

Slashes the petal eight times

Eight o'clock hell spreads cancer-like

I decay, decay, decay

Save me with your radioactive love.



The Broken Boy

s

Tonight I will spread the anxious flowers on the summer bed, expecting
smiles rooting out in the pale morning.

This bed specially made from the trees of Nagarkot

Promises a good night rest (mommy told to never trust strangers),

I check the wardrobe to fetch fertilizers and seeds

Hurriedly, happily believing the angels protest in heavens

To ascend and sleep on this magnificent bed,

The bed turns to the guest and whispers,

'You're to sleep with me tonight'

The guest jumps like a happy calf

Thinking of the ascending angels,

Past 12 the bed is full of guests

With whom is the bed mingling?



The angels claim the bed to be theirs

The guest proves mathematically that everything is his: one plus one equals
to one,

The bugs, cloths, coverings deny the claim



Around 3 a.m. in the morning

The bed transforms into a small boy with three candies between his innocent
fingers

Runs toward the mommy forever

Forever he runs (mommy told to never trust strangers)

And that's what he's been doing.

 

 

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