The Red

The Red


She walks down the red,
Upon the carpeted floor
Her morally unsteady steps
Propelled by ways of humanity.
And ,behind a closed door,
When all lay asleep,
But the two men – waiting,
And the black eyed boy.

The tinkering sound of her feet,
The silent bustle of her sari,
The heavy rasp of her chest
And laughter of men.

She looks back, uncertain ,
Dark eyes, blackened – blank;
At the empty red path,
And the locked door before.
Dark eyes , blackened – blank;
And roars of drunken laughter

The pain of recollection
By the hypothetical “i”
And her doubts – certainty;
And her fears – overcome;
And her shame – hidden ;
And the knock on the door.
The heavy rasp of her chest
The teals of laughter
And the door opened,

And she disappeared behind the brown,
And she disappeared behind the brown.

© 2006 T.Prabhakar. All Rights Reserved.