Bathroom Blues

I.Moulting

Every night, I
shed my
skin, and

lie at the peeling,
orange tub
Torso

limp, like a
new born
Mermaid

I cling to
flimsy
pantyhoses

as old ladies, wear
oily fish-skin
on their udders,

wondering when
puce polka dots
‘neath collarbones

would be Art.

II.Bad Dream

Every night, I
dream of
little, unaware

girls, with blind
sweet onion
nipples

and, lily skin
and, drown my
matty, greying

mane, in murky
bathroom broth
and, keep holding

breath, till I
feel his
mangled

knuckles, on my throat

III.Martini

Every night, I
smash
a sterling

wine glass
shaking, cynic
on shattered

shards
wishing I’d
never

drink again
Also, trying to
remember

if there’s
one more
spare piece

in the cupboard, for ‘morrow.

IV.Bloom

At Summers, I
stare at
moonlit

windowpanes
looking for
Magnolias

in full bloom
Instead, red
larvae

squiggle, and
a tiny, fuchsia
sea flower

smiles through the glass vase.

V.Breeze

Outside, the
coconut trees
swivel, to the

mad wind
bald little
Blackbirds

droop off to sleep.

There are still

Fireflies

inside my mouth

Perhaps.

So I
raise myself, and
dress myself, and

dial a fidgety
boy in
sepia

with battered
Yellow roses
from a

decade ago,

drawing dreamscapes
on tiles.

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Ritoshree Chatterjee

Ritoshree Chatterjee

Ritoshree Chatterjee pursues her undergraduate degree in English literature and struggles to locate herself through writing amidst the chaos.