Familia

Its engines turn

and fearfully twist, 

Raking the insides 

of my throat, a fist…

Pain of salvation, 

the retch. Memories 

like bones on a rack

they stretch. Its gears 

diligently creak and sweat,

a mechanical death 

and bodily yet.

Its giant pistons,they bathe

me in guilt. Slow death, soul

rot, in the house my father built.

Anirban Kapil Baishya (March 9th, 2014)