Gillyweed

Father,
there are holes
in the roof
of our kitchen.

From here I could see
the sunlight.

Later in the afternoon,
as it happens every day,
during these mental monsoon months
  of June and July: 

Our house would turn 
into a mini Ocean Park. 

Puddles will form 
on basins and teacups
settled on ground.
Trickling on warm wooden
walls. This house
would be the house
of garden moss
and ferns. 

Father in a matter of days,
if we don’t fix this we will have:

Gills instead of nose.
Fins for arms and legs.
And scales 
in place of skin.

I’m not saying this is bad:
I’m just saying this 
Is not good either.

One thought on “Gillyweed

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s