Deprivation-

The touch was clear. It asked for something else. Something more pure and crystal.  Transparent as my sister's fingernail. 
I create muses in the air and talk to imaginary situations. Pets, people- furniture and sky. I bang utensils on the table and chew table cloth.  
With shapeless nights and foamy mouth, I  say my prayers and chant all the Buddhist sayings. Deprivation—-- a long pause.
 From the sky like a circular topology. From inch to inch, moving gently to nowhere.
Now, I see television and dance to sepia voices, lost sounds or perhaps to kettle whistle. 
I do not remain a body. Shifting towards a sanguine night sitting on a Jasmine.
I discard everything. 
All and everything. 

Devika Mathur resides in India and is a published poet, writer, and editor. Her works have been published in The Alipore Post, Madras Courier, Quail Bell, Modern Literature, Two Drops Of Ink, Dying Dahlia Review, Pif Magazine, Spillwords, Duane's Poetree, Piker Press, Mojave Heart Review, Whisper and the Roar amongst others. She is the founder of the surreal poetry website "Olive skins" and writes for https://myvaliantsoulsblog.wordpress.com/ She recently published her book "Crimson Skins" and her five poems were also published in the Sunday Mornings River anthology and has her works upcoming in two more fierce anthologies.