the shield
covid-19
spread
plastic sheets
in
the bank
around
the desk
between
every
two people
turning
voices
into
muffles
draping
bodies
of the living
and the
dead
plastic
before eyes
mouth
hands
catching breath
hiding smiles
blurring faces
saving lives
fake shields
white
thin
blank
once banned
now revived
but will this rotten shield of plastic
ever leave the heart?
the heart line
I don’t want to listen
to an astrologer
or see the crooked lines on my palms
doubling and tripling the loops of my fate
deciding on my destiny
challenging my faith
ruling over my belief
I don’t want to look at the stars
without the innocence of a child
carried on a hip
that’s worn from desire and load
with tears lining down
those chubby cheeks,
being fed full of orbs of love
more pure and perfect than the lonely moon
I heard the beats of my heart
through the lines that they drew
up and down to the T wave inversion
feeding me with life
blowing me the sense of right and wrong
for which I never pause
even a bit to listen
the long lines on my palms merged
smooth
the short ones ran here and there
and mocked me
the loops tightened around my neck
and strangled me
the stars yonder brightened up
and blinded me
my heart pulsated
with rhythmic throbs
made me squirm,
flinch, and take to heel at once
breathless I ran
to the finishing line faint
she turned
and I gave her my hand
Here
I just followed my heart.
About the Poet
Aparna Variyam is a student of Spanish at Mission College with a passion for creative writing, art, and music. She has a post-graduation in English Language and Literature from Mahatma Gandhi University (Kerala), India.