Monday, February 22, 2016

Ananya S. Guha- A Poem


Semantically I forget names
I remember faces long gone
appearing sometimes with
the mad breath of wind. Rush.
Faces that sometimes brush
promontories of the mind.
Faces that are kind.
Faces that weep,
which I keep running  a gauntlet
to ease out the spittle in this world
to render warmth
to keep alive
a life which I sometimes lose
caught in this noose
a sequestrated trap.
Faces rotate
on origin of ash.

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