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  • Hridi

At Dawn, I leave in Search of You

Don’t piss in my territory if I don’t belong to you. (Do I? I still ask. The body of a drought is a woman’s.) Forget me but Remember, not giving up has a flavour of its own. The astronomers will tell you, a trifle salty (I’ll stay.)

Fossil of a lost sea the sand, it tastes of salt with its many fish bones.

You dug a river and planted trees. The trees were stunted. You apologized for having brought water to the shrivelled. Ten days later, the desert was dead, the stars ashamed. You said “Sorry”.

My clothes still reek of your mercy. Only the desert snake remains, sealed in the specimen jar. Tomorrow, I’ll release it.



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