By: Upasana Sharma
My river is mist and smoke.
300 feet deep and 3 kilometers wide,
Is a great big miracle.
Some number of
Lonely dolphins and happy humans have left their souls
Stirring under the translucent roots of this
A murder of crows visit
They dip their claws in strict prostration.
Some decide to drift away,
Merging with the lackluster sheen of these vast waters.
Like these, I have made my journey
Through paper boats and wilted, soggy flowers
Offered my soul in fragments.
Sailed fierce on a current of jilted hope
That sun and salt will cauterize an afflicted pulse;
Troubled waters run red over a patina of decay.