I hear murmurs of distant sleep. Sometimes,
At the half-hour, dreaming dreamlessly insects
Crawling up my bed. Waiting, tirelessly waiting
To devour my flesh.
It’ll vanish soon in this dense air. Just like sand
In the tremors of sea. Diminishing slowly,
Little by little. For who’d know when
The half-hour will come.
Then flies swarming upon me, driving me
Mad. But madness is good because it ends peacefully.
Just like winds prattle before calm and then sunshine.
Indian LIterature Magazine | Author | Utsav Kaushik studies English at Zakir Husain Delhi College (Evening), University Of Delhi. He has conducted research in wide areas such as: Literary criticism, 17th-18th Century English Poets, Victorian Era, etc. He is currently working on the U.G.C innovation Project, as well as on a research paper in the field of Post-colonialism. He has won First prize in an inter-college fest for best self-composed poetry for his poem “From Body to Soul”. Also, has a deep interest in writing poetry, songs, short story and plays