A Day at Home

armchair

University closed
Stuck to the bed, like an invalid
Typing word after word in mind, a blade’s worth
Of poetic incision, the psyche is bored
Like a blank A4 sheet and a broken
Type writer and the body needs a shake
Missing my wife’s tectonic plate
That causes tsunamis inside battlegrounds
Of chemical garrisons, when nitrous oxide
Rises like mustard gas
For a genocide of desire, as I, house-hubby
Like a lost camel in a dessert
Spiking his thirst from lexicon humps
Stranded between limbo’s walls
No woman, no work, only a cricket match
On TV, and they say this is an unusual day
When I’m in a coma of emptiness
Searching for fate’s intervention
To speak even to a roadside stranger
After all, I’m lifeless now, and the mind
Is consumed by the fungus of vacuity
Suckling every bit of vitality
And I visibly dripping like an ice sculpture
Until I drown myself on a pillow
And disappear to an oblivion