Bogeyman
By Vasant Abaji Dahake
One more bogeyman
flaps on a calendar, bragging.
They’re all prisoners of hope, shoulders
sagging in the present, lips festooned
with platitudes;
the loose change of their lives
rings on the floor, rolls away.
These treacherous seasons of ecstasy
go striding like colossi
across my torpid body.
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