Teesta Review: A Journal of Poetry, Volume 1, Number 1. May 2018. ISSN: 2581-7094
A
River
A river chooses her course
Through my veins up and down
Vertical as I wake and stand
Horizontal when I am asleep
Sometimes whirly in my dream.
Now a river disappears.
A fright of graying reeds
Abandons me as dry ribs of a dead
cow
Bared on the banks.
Who has sliced the flesh?
I turn white watching
A river drying to a poodle
Amid wastes of a historic city
In the middle of the rainy season.
Sands do not reflect the silver
beams
Nor sing the glories of castles and
kings.
I look for waters thirsty.
Somewhere a river
Trickles words like drops of blood
Oozing out of headwaters
Sliced and churned
Tunnelled and dammed.
A river chooses her course.
She can rise upwards above the
walls
Can conceal herself supinely
In the crevices of rocks
And blast like a whirl
Close to the skies.
In my dream
A river is metamorphosed to seas.