Poem 19 (6.1)

 Teesta Review: A Journal of Poetry, Volume 6, Number 1. May 2023. ISSN: 2581-7094



It’s

--- Suchita Parikh-Mundul

the clothesline

after long hours of work, spread

like the wings of a proverb;

what we hold

between index and thumb

while grinding days

that can’t be folded away;

the throat that remains

steady while others demand a corpse;

the head saying

this is the way, let them pass;

the body in the river,

flowing, numb with

hard-earned peace.

 


A place with no words

--- Suchita Parikh-Mundul

 The opportunity to be buried

in gesture, each limb conversant in silence.

 

A fulsome peace, eyes shut to noise.

 

Occasionally growing syllables in soil,

listening to its riverine babble

masked by the scent of the tuberose

and frangipani.

 

To live in such a town, or underneath it,

where busyness is not currency:

no horn, loudspeaker, clamour.

 

Messages sent through roots, quiescence, seasonal petals.

To live and die in such quietude,

soft breath leading a moment

into the next.



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