the winds soothed Hell with howling lullabies.
We returned home, drenched,
flashes of the flesh exposed like a wound
under a flipping band-aid,
The next morning,
we had omelette for breakfast,
Shakespeare for class.
Mihir Vatsa is a poet from Hazaribagh who currently lives in New Delhi in a room on a roof with his little netbook and empty water bottles. His recent works have appeared in Eclectica, Downer Magazine, and The Four Quarters Magazine.