Foeticide

The cradle is my grave
The lullabies that my mother sings
are requiems
The look that my affectionate sister gives me
is the hysteria of grief
My father stands there
me – a piece of his heart
rocked by the calm hand that is like fire to my pyre
The world is my death
and Light
is the faint sobbing of my friends
My cries are of day eclipsed by night
My body – eyes, ears, nose, mouth, hands,legs…
are lying in that empty frame
over there by my mother’s clutching eyes
My room is so empty it cannot speak
What are my thoughts
if not
the next empty page you will come across
what am I
if not dead?