Poetry at Sangam

SangamHouse

 










The Ones Who Don’t Make Words by K. Srilata

One worries about
their ice-choked hearts
as they head further north
with clear focus.
One feels certain: It is only a matter of time before.
Dullness    opacity    a face turned away from the light     slow death
One is certain with a certainty
that’s a big block of ice un-melting.