By Nisha Kutty:
The crooked cans sing a crooked song,
As you pass along these withered willows
You can hear them clank – through these roads rather long.
She basks in the glory of her idiocy,
She basks in the beauty of the dark
She speaks of a world long forgotten –
She lives through whirls of snarl.
This great abeyance then,
Shall lead to no everlasting hills.
Oh, onlooker! do you see their marbled facades of blue smoke?
Rueful and vexed – his tender skin you see
But, do you never wonder – What else it might be?
Aurora pinned me to this world of desolation –
where be her light?
But, you forget –
My soul is a bride here – dressed so beautifully in white.