Timbered Hopes

Rubbing my hands
on the scabrous blanket
enveloping the frigid night
I kindle timbered hopes
torpid as they stood
like redundant clapboards
waiting to be disposed of
before they are nibbled by the termites
the charred tips of my fingers
oozing salve to becalm
the blistered sores
of lingering desires
the pungent fumes
of combusting yearnings
the only anodyne
to allay my perturbed mind.

~ Chhaya