Frazzled at the day's end <br />when I smell her flesh <br />she curses my knots <br /> <br />and the two decades <br />of living the same routine <br />in kitchen and bed <br /> <br />and nowhere else to go <br />in shameless convenience <br />I look for the blankness <br /> <br />she kicks my image <br />in the little pool of blood <br />and buries my sex<br /><br />R.K. Singh<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/burial-5/
