by Fabiyas M V
Yikes!
Trembling with pent-up emotion,
he stares at her photo
(soft and white, like yogurt).
Is she really his lost lover?
Her pallid complexion has vanished,
yet a faint trace of her husband’s atrocity
is still visible.
The same innocence illuminates her eyes.
She sits serenely in the passenger’s seat,
enjoying the panorama
outside the human palisade.
Her feelings seem to transform romantically
through the music
and Yardley fragrance in the car.
She has listened to
his voice imitating the FM radio
(as a serenade).
Unyoked,
her aesthetic sense is open.
She has escaped
from the hellhole and the hell-raiser.
“The artificial intelligence-powered camera
never sends an erroneous picture,”
the Road Transport Officer confirms.
The driver argues in vain
that he was alone in the car,
pays a fine for the lady
not wearing the seat belt.
He muses:
The pall-bearers can carry only the body,
and a pall is not the final curtain.