The tale of a tiny, black box

When it is restlessly rapping

at the fragile walls,

I raise the lid cautiously

when no one is watching

to give my soul a peep

dancing feverishly inside

and we grin at each other

before I snap it shut

and bury it back into my

back pocket which then

bulges out,and needs to

be hastily smoothed

or I shall find myself drawn

into a scratching fit among

civilized gatherings and

invite suspicion over carrying

my soul in so reckless a

manner.

Even at night,I slide the

box under my pillow before

I close my eyes and only then

does my soul assume its

infamous formlessness

to seep out of its seclusion

and pour into my brain,

enacting the deepest of

my desires and fears-

That is the sole

mischief I allow my soul

otherwise locked up in

a tiny,black box for

all day long.