Thirst
By Padmini Krishnan
 

Drought-torn eyes rest

on patches of black

between the folds of blue skies

while droplets float below

the clouds,

teasing the barren ground.

A silver-bellied sparrow

rises, casting its ash-shadow

on the pavement,

carrying the

thirst of the earth,

croaking for tiny drops,

her angry eyes piercing the

hot blue sky

as if to tear it open

and steal torrents

of water, waiting

to burst out

from the blue cage.

Burrowed insects peek

in and out,

inhaling the

manufactured petrichor

in my garden

as I stack my

guilty thoughts

behind locked doors

wondering if the water truck

will arrive tomorrow

and the day after.