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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