From lattice window
I watch the doomed and dying each day:
read the tattooed name
of her first love on the right arm
waking up the drunk
with tenderness of youthful mom
bitchy fight at night
for booze or sex in candle light
smoking dreams of years
with dirt or grease between fingers
his somniloquy
drugged-out face, doomed grin, boys’ dustup
now the Covid smells
they shift lamp to live with shadow
lockdown images
burning, buried, floating bodies
I nearly die
nobody asks me my last wish
--R K Singh
