A familiar sound
drops like a boulder in my belly
a second before I open the door.
The skull that hit the floor, now bobs up
to greet me, to my relief.
Guilt boils over.
I let out an angry yowl,
She joins in, confused
I hug her, kneeling on the floor
amidst the debris of broken embankments—pillows and bolsters mis-navigated
in her flight from the bed.
Fear drives shame away.
For a while after,
I keep the bathroom door open as vigil,
postponing worldly lessons
to a later date.
Pooja Ugrani is as an architect by education, a teacher by profession, a poet by whim and an artist by choice. Some of her recent works have been published by the online magazine The Punch (The Byword) and Cafe Dissensus everyday blog. She considers the cities of Mumbai and Bangalore her twin homes and writes about the small everyday things in life that intrigue and engage her.