Poems by
Rathish

My Bed

a poem by Rathish

Each night on my narrow bed
an ordeal awaits me with bated breath.
Countless bayonets promising of a million deaths
deal their lusty blows on my yielding flesh
and I lie there motionless clenching my fists
waiting for the one lethal blow.
One that never comes, leaving me to
bleed and wince and wait for another go.