Urmila

She went
and stood
silent
on threshold
waiting

A part of her
slept
the fitful fever
of half awake

Hands resting
on door
frame , she
waited
and waited

the plants
wilted
her hair
grayed
skin
wrinkled

she still
waited .

Eventually
she gave up
and turned in
with swirls
of despair
drying
in crinkly
heaps

She took off
her slippers
climbed the bed
and slept
the sleep
of the dead

nothing
no disappointment
no exuberance
no fireworks
could wake her up
now .

She had been
delivered .

When he came
he smelt
fear and longing
like lingering whiff
of a long lost perfume
and tasted the salt of
dusty tears
a cobwebby doorway
and pots full
of plants
long dead
with
neglect.