mountains of the mind

by Saakshi Patel

thin discs of cucumber and lemon
swim in the water jug but still seem
to be drying out when warm breezes

blow i feel like a slice of bread
dropped in a toaster at breakfast i see
shapes and faces in the singed bits

i am hot dripping and sprinting now
my sweating feet with no destination
i wonder how my blood hasn’t gushed

up my throat stained my teeth
and poured onto the sand browning
it to a burnt sienna i keep running

smelling onions in my sweat-stream
but the cloud of mosquitos dense
and black and buzzing like a boom-box

zooms after me and i trip fall mouth-first
into the sand but not deep enough to hide
from the parasites who whizz over

and take a liking to my left calf it looks
like i am wearing a black woollen sock
which deadens my foot to pins and needles

but when i blink the blood has drained
the sated bugs are flying away my thigh
tapers off into clean white bone