A Sunday Story

They left a hole in my wall,

then said, "Madam, there's a wire here,

if we go any further, there'll be a short circuit."

So, I asked them what they planned to do.

"Keep making holes till we find a safe point."

I laughed and told them to stop.

And thought to myself,

when they'll ever be sure,

of that place where danger doesn't exist.

I don't like vulgar holes in my perfect wall.

I like the labyrinth wire trap,

keeping vulgar holes

away from the wall,

the minefield that casual labourers

will dare not trample on.

"Send the electrician first,

he knows it all," I said.

They came back saying,

that the electrician had quit.

So I stared at the gaping emptiness they left behind,

It wasn't aesthetic, but I felt proud,

as if it were my very own abstract masterpiece,

that others would only pretend to understand.