A Prick In The Petal Poem by lalitha iyer

So soft the petal is
who pricked its breast?
so saintly a chest
reaped with lovely harvest
the dust settles
on its lovely bed
and hurts it red
rubbing with it hard
some hearts are
softer than the smooths
of silky woven cloths
hurt are their tenders
when a word a hunter
renders
I can feel the pain
as if it rains
in an alien train
a stranger remote
with no wise coat
cut by my words
and left my sailing hoard.