Ashwani Kumar
Pandemic Day Dreaming
Wolves roar in the factory
Workers cough in the bed
Women scrub ankle dirt in the bathing tub
I have never told anyone,
when my blood turns black,
smelling like overripe watermelons.
There are times,
when stone elephants guarding highway catch viral fever
and travelling migrants are plundered by pot-bellied goats.
There is no evidence
unused library books are good manure or
patients in isolation wards love protein biscuits.
I have never told anyone
survival rates are higher in pandemic or
there are more risks in eating brown rice
smelling of quinine tablets.