Cain

By Rabeya Kaur

Cain—

Cain was the runt of the litter

By heart; the downgrade of creation.

Cain was the father of blood.

The blood of the sinner.

The holy undone.

Cain was the revolver,

A rifle manhandled.

He brought a stone to the home;

Cain was justice upside down—

Down, down, drowned

By the serpentine lover.

How did you manage to be so much worse,

My love?

Next time,

Promise,

You’ll tell me before you deny.

Cain—

Cain wore the head of his brother.

He scorched my arm with his screwed tool.

And said, “Come over here, dear halter!”

The son of the Sun.

Cain was the rivulet of hunt.

You can’t deny, there’s more to a life

Than just their virtue or their loving.

Nevermore the wise and as Cain,

Dipped the rock down—

Down, down, drowned

By the serpentine lover.

How did you manage to be so much worse,

My love?

Next time,,

Promise,

You’ll tell me before you deny.

Cain—

Cain wrote your God down.

Before him was only grassland

And a fighting mother.

Cain, the guilty of origin;

But evermore you say you never wanted to decay.

He said, begrudgingly to me

In a panoramic vision,

“The blood of the convent is thicker than

The water of the womb;” trudging down—

Down, down, drowned

By the serpentine lover.

How did you manage to be so much worse,

My love?

Next time,

Promise,

You’ll tell me before you deny.

And if you had done so this time,

You would’ve been rather laicised.

By Rabeya Kaur