Monday, December 14, 2015

Ananya S. Guha- A Poem

Doors That Pass

whatever there is little
not, rhapsodies of cash, wealth, lucre
no not love
no, not speaking embracing type
nor bodily touch
whatever, is in the small arches of angels
guarding doors, opening highways
vistas of transition
so come, speak damnation
in those hieroglyphic arches
of doors-
doors that pass, shut and open.


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