On the road
On the roadOn the road
from Belpahari to Banspahari,
the sal trees
I pass, one after another,
if only I could draw
upon their bark
a moon
sucked pale by bats,
then all the day long
the quicksands
I make my home with
would surrender
every one of their truths,
and drift away
on a river
of roasted peanuts.
Poetry by sinha murari
Written on 2026-10-10 at 04:01
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
