Poetry at Sangam

SangamHouse

 










Elegy for Mascha

I’m setting you a record time of silence.
I’m setting you a winning time to beat.

I can’t outrun your voice with my own;
these are dry matters of wordless legality.

It’s not like I’m in love with you,
I don’t regret the terms of my relocation,

it’s just that every sainted breakfast is a ruin
and I am hollow and hollow throughout.