Nightmares
of Mrs. Adams
by June Nandy
It must’ve been made
of iron;
such was the weight on her
chest, she said.
One night, it told her of
dust. The dust that made
you and her—same. In the
morning, she couldn’t move
her legs; you comforted her.
It came again, the night next,
riding its horse or may be an
owl. Sitting on her chest, it
told: Lillith was its name—
your previous wife.
You listened, by the side of
her bed, the cries of nada-
nah; that the delicious lance
drives to see if it fits into the
hollow; and you eased her
loss of movement. You said,
Eve—my ink is your word.
The hag never returned, she
said, thereafter.
© 2010 June Nandy
June
Nandy's recent works have appeared in The
Beat, Sein Und Werden,Kritya and
elsewhere. She has won the third place in the open poetry contest, 2009
with Prakriti Foundation, Chennai.
Her poems can be accessed at:
www.throughthestripedshirt.blogspot.com.
Read more by June Nandy
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