TWO PLACES AGO by Srishti Dutta Chowdhury

i will drag the lake into this.

sometimes i don’t find the right side to

bare my body to the

wind. speaking of lake, that predisposition with

hooks. the fishing kind, the wince at the end of line bearing

a gash against the belly of the sea.

the shard of pink flesh eating at

my mouth. my mouth. i am

feasting on the horror of scales. foisting oil over

the silver, fostering the cave of dark teeth, the

mound of eye with this fork.

i will drag the mouth that wilts like

a wildflower over the wound of this. like the palmy, carmine of

canna. your mouth weighs a thousand

lies on scales. the right place for

a wrinkled laughter. the setting sun. this blouse

of mauve sticking gum on

flesh. your tongue scouring the ridges against

glass. the window of the lake. the slick pat of wind over the crest heaving

out of water.

over and over, i lower the

hearse. you will not stay.

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Poetry at Sangam