Category: Life

Autopsy of a Poet

It was my  first autopsy, there is a fair hint of decay but no bruises or wounds I made opening incisions on his body, beneath the bone deeper than marrow I found some subtle sonnets left for his love-the, one who abandoned him, is that…

The Kiss

I’ve been counting these days, Like the atoms of carbon and oxygen Falling from the stellar, Producing indistinct noise Under some old stone windmill While we kissed in the Couch at the corner of the cafe. Sushma Jegan