by Partha Sarkar.
It has showered symbolically.
Has returned home the boat leaving
The sultry warehouse.
Has returned the necklace made of moonlit silver.
Yet there is a skull in the wetland.
Yet suffocates the silent embryo.
‘Be calm…be calm….’ A downfall in the sleeve.
Then the questions:
Who goes upstairs leaving the backdated ideologies?
Who comes downstairs following the backdated calendar?
Only a sound
Slides off the delivery boy and dies.
‘Open the door…the delivery boy….
Let us enjoy our bastardies…’
A cold voice at the tower.