Like things let us corrode in peace
On sea beach,in a 3BHk apartment.
The iron we have been using is old
Brought from defunct hill’s mines,
A hill corroded in last year’s rains.
Today we see blood moon corrodes
On our roof and rust falls to clouds.
In the bloody confusion rain forgets
To fall on the city’s parched tongue.
All our farmers are up on the trees,
Their tongues tasting tree’s cold air.
It seems they are entirely corroded.
All things corrode and even a moon
We had seen in childhood coconuts.
The moon is made of a fragile iron
That rusts of too much rain clouds.
So rust in peace, we say in requiem.