Like coastal things ,let us corrode in peace on the sea beach, in a 3-B.H.K apartment. The iron we have been eating for our Complete Blood Picture has turned out old, brought from defunct hill, a hill corroded in last year’s mining licences.
Today we see a blood moon corroding on our roof and its rust falls to clouds. In the bloody confusion rain may forget to fall on port city’s parched tongue. All farmers on the countryside are up on the trees,their tongues tasting the tree’s cold air.It seems they are entirely corroded.
All things corrode and even a moon we had seen in childhood coconuts. The moon is made of a fragile iron that rusts of too much rain clouds.
So rust in peace, that is all we can say in requiem.