In My Cell / Monobina Nath

Mouth has dried up-
A wounded moon.
Rain is yowling
On the liquid snow.

So, I walk in,
Walk in
Like a ghost-
A wailing shadow.

My limbs are bared
In the blankets
Of snowflakes.
Foul and mahogany-

The hours,
That I spent
In the tempest.
Ringing my doorbell-

A new rhyme,
A new pain,
A new game
Has arrived in my cell again.

Monobina Nath is a poetess, who writes about maidenhood, women’s rights, psychology, mythology and history. She has a keen interest about different cultures and their cuisines. Her forthcoming work will be in The South-Asian Youth Anthology, My Slice of the Sky. Her instragram id – @monobinanath .

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