ANTBITE
Night time call center
near the signal
on the national highway.
The Sun of her home
sleeps all through the day.
The position held
at this office
by her mother
was assigned to her
on her mother's
untimely demise.
Her question papers
that did not know
the answers to queries
became the guarantee
to this job for her.
Her face too,
which did not know
the language
at the face-to-face
interview,
did not drive her away
and deprive of the job.
About this job,
she has no regrets.
But,
sometimes,
ants bite
at her nakedness.
"If anyone
of these men
were to be
my father..."
👁 2💬 0
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.
Log in to leave a comment.