The sick room

They keep watch

in carbolic-acid suspense

by the sick bed---

cold, still, papery eyelids

shunning life---


Outside,

a boy-child’s voice

suddenly erupts –

shrill  rhapsodic rapt

in his childhood---

pounding childish fists

against stubborn walls

brimful of endless vitality

confident in his indestructibility---


The funereal air inside

the sick room

crackles awake with

the unexpected incandescence

of imperishable joy---


-by Rita Putatunda

Rascal Moon

as the musk of dusk

sprayed the sky

with a heady perfume

and the wine

of the setting sun

drenched the rooftops

with magenta gold hues

and the evening stars

popped out one by one

like bursting balloons

the rascal moon hopped

on to the branches of

the gulmohar outside

my window


peeping in with an impish blink

he gave me a naughty wink

slithering down the dark trunk

a shadowy gliding silver snake

he slopped into my room

through the window

i had left carelessly ajar


his naked feet splotched

all over my floor

skidding gliding sliding

he crept up close to me

and sloshed his silver dreams

all over my eyelids


sauntering out nonchalantly

his careless feet

sloshing and splotching jauntily

through the sleeping streets

whistling a tuneless tune

his pockets stuffed

with my stolen sleep

-by Rita Putatunda