Crimson Cup by Prateek Joshi

Crimson Cup

Prateek Joshi

Twilight. It’s gray, and I have an objection to tea — in the hours, two of which have passed fleetingly.

A wish to be anywhere but here presses me My syllables ache, disjoined

The market is in disarray, and the inns are closed I took a nap to forget the boredom, but a noise knocked me up Once the owner of a bar saw me slipping out the window Since, I have grown an ear in my belly

I am listening to the blood mix in my spleen All feuds return in the gossips of servants It is getting too warm to wear pants. Forged paintings in my bedroom color my clutter.

What did I tell you? It’s twilight, gray and I have an objection to tea?

Two hours have passed fleetingly. It’s past daytime now, and I can’t keep denying a cup of it.