Teesta Review: A Journal of Poetry, Volume 3, Number 1. May 2020. ISSN: 2581-7094
Moon
Our
talk will depend
on
the sighting of the moon,
a
cradle in the sky
where
our words will croon.
Will
Eid be soon
or
will there be a delay?
Will
we forget differences
in
this month of May?
Or
even before the birth
we
will blight the boon,
and
butcher it into
my
moon, your moon?
Raisin
Within
our skin
pigments
of imagination
build
dense settlements.
Outside
our skin
a
climate of discrimination
breeds
islands of discontent.
You
say we have
blood
in our hands
if
we do not stake our claim.
And
every night
the
bloody earth
hides
half its face in shame.
And
every now
a
moment lost
if
the race is not run.
And
every now
a
dream deferred
like
a raisin in the sun.