Millimeter

Hanishka Soni · Indian

in a millimeter a head can be crushed beneath feathers of stone, split twelve ways destroyed by rushing tides that sweep away footsteps scattered across the shoreline just yesterday wringing off flooring beneath stilted feet of splintered wood eyes can be bruised and bloodshot, sagging beneath experience, escapade of daggers flung from hands made of weathered rope shaking, layered with diamond thorns dripping out from their widened corners lips can be sliced through fingers meant to seal an orated thought, now sprinting till breathlessness fighting till lucidity shorter than childhood teeth can be held clenched for fear of loosening held by braces of fabric, pushed in by a trembling thumb replaced by faulted glass and polished wood fastened with sewing thread years can weave into decades and the shift in direction by a margin wide as a millimeter diverts the line meters away from control