Funeral at 9

Funeral at 9 by Nikita Biswas

Today’s morning greeted me
with overcast skies painted
in a drowsy monotone of
wine-red strokes, mimicking
the crimson carpet stains
by my window.

I hold my head under water
to rinse off the whispers inside my head
like dirt from a pebble lying
cold amidst a milieu of

The mirror on my bathroom
wall is splayed with M-A-Y-D-A-Y
and the top headline flashing
into the depths of my eyes
Love tattooed a message
in teeth marks on the walls of
my neck, morse for ‘Consent is Dead’.

I scrounge for black to
mourn for my beloved but
the window pane calls my bluff
for my body is now a fertile ground
of darkened bruises quietly
Breathing, Breeding and Raging
under my skin.

The birthmark on my thigh
is the discolored shadow of
a maple leaf held in
sunlight and the kisses from my
love pours dashes of autumn into it
but I wonder if consent blacked out
last night from the monopoly of
autumn outliving its stay.

Consent is a seven-lettered word
yet my love gift-wraps it into
a mono syllable of disdain
and together we lay it down
into the hearts of
nameless graves as love
mumbles a prayer under his breath.

I run my fingers on the
crimson carpet stains
looking for conspiracies that bludgeoned
consent like my withered body
pressed against the window
and yet, love runs gentle strokes
on my neck
and whispers my name into
hollow carcasses of desire
but fails to see the
immaculate irony that runs naked
into a wildfire of my wishes.

<img class="wp-block-coblocks-author__avatar-img" src="; alt="<strong>Nikita Biswas
Nikita Biswas

A 20-year-old from India, currently pursuing my undergrad in math. I love observing things around me/happening to me. I always seem to draw my inspiration from the subtleties of life that continue to baffle me.

I also happen to like playing around with words and the magic they create when put together properly. That is part of the reason why all of my poems feature raw imagery. 

Writing has always proved to be my saving grace, both in times of despair and joy. My thirst for knowledge and experience will hopefully complement this journey of growing into a mature writer. 

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