Wedlock Poem by RUCHI ACHARYA
Flickering flames rage the untitled claims of merriment in the life of Mrs. Anne Lynd.
Her torn-out stockings, scratchy-thighs unpaid ladyship’s decency.
Gaped at her beloved’s abuse, lies and addicted sins
Herein the connubial world spins, bumpkin’s doubled-chin, curvy bedtime foreskin and public grins made Mrs. Lynd feels chagrin
Rage an endless fire, reduce and seduce Mrs. Lynd into debris and ruins.
Backstabbed by her beau, she smells every twilight of a new perfume.
Traumatised mind, drifted soul apart, shaky hands cooked Nana on her first marriage anniversary.
Phony longing care, false promises, dirty stares, such a classic history.
Mrs. Lynd plays a blind man’s bluff in her solitary confinement with silver chandelier and fashion accessories.
Octa years sway by. Now there lies dust-devil curtains and dead roses eden with mandarin tree.
Heavy breaths swirl across the pink bars of empty-cradle, period cramping abdominal, and rise of undefined hatred accrual.
Why the edge of knife, sharp and blunt? Why husband’s affair leave Mrs. Lynd so stunned?
Catastrophic night swept by, led to the beginning of Mr. Lynd’s calamity.
There she catwalks, entangled herself from threads of silence, rising from the ashes over his characterless nudity.
Like a devastating tornado, flooding the sea shore, burning forest fire or a shaking earthquake I’ll arrive.
“I am the apocalypse” says she whilst emerging from beneath the surface and taking her first breath to survive.
Bloody warnings, almighty eulogies writings, there stood widowed Lynd drest in black.
Shedding croc’s tears, trouncing her utmost fear, aback-clack-counter-attack.
She wins, wine glasses ding, no more dejected clings.There she stood at the end of the aisle, a new-fangled bride in the white gown.
Nothing changes for Mrs. Lynd in this suburb haunting ghost-town,
With no regret, no frets, she smiles with velvety kiss, ring-o-bells, a holy-wedlock.
Here comes another Mr.Lynd unaware of his fate into the spider’s nest, an aftershock!