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Photo by ian dooley on Unsplash

A shipwrecked pistol came to my room & said it
wanted to sleep. She now lies in my bed. Naked on

the floor, my toes dipped in a blue river, in a fist
of ice, I watch the seawater foam out of her mouth &

wonder if we can kiss. Metal pushing past the broken
gate of my tongue, into my clogged throat. It will kill

me one day, the way anything can kill anyone, so why
should I be afraid? Not the first time I have held

something terrible in my mouth. Words I spit
like careless pebbles once blinded an eye. She lies

in my bed now, a one-eyed pistol loaded with the
death I crave. How does one resist this love, of bullets

in beating hearts, of mermaids eaten by whales. This love
where even a murder by her growling hand would be

glorious.

Rahul Misra

Written by

I write mostly poetry, and some fiction. You may find an essay in my feed once in a while. Email: rahul.misra.writes@gmail.com

Rahul Misra

Written by

I write mostly poetry, and some fiction. You may find an essay in my feed once in a while. Email: rahul.misra.writes@gmail.com

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