A humming word

 I spill silence on this page and dip a brush into the  into ink of the starless night  a stroke of brush here a stroke of brush there Look: it's your name /for a friend/

There is no room for angst in this house. Here, tears hide behind index fingers, and anger is grated in the coconut to prepare chutney— chutney as bitter as last night, when words minced dreams. A thousand pieces splattered around the house— and there’s no room that can contain it. Picture: Shravan K