Gunshot Love

Rahul Misra
1 min readNov 29, 2018
Photo by ian dooley on Unsplash

A shipwrecked pistol came to my room & said it
wanted to sleep. She now lies in my bed. Naked on

the floor, my toes dipped in a blue river, in a fist
of ice, I watch the seawater foam out of her mouth &

wonder if we can kiss. Metal pushing past the broken
gate of my tongue, into my clogged throat. It will kill

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Rahul Misra

I write mostly poetry, and some fiction. You may find an essay in my feed once in a while. Connect at http://rmisra.com or me@rmisra.com