Literary Yard

Search for meaning

Poetry

By: Upasana Sharma

river

My river is mist and smoke.

300 feet deep and 3 kilometers wide,
My river,
 
Is a great big miracle.

Some number of
Lonely dolphins and happy humans have left their souls
Stirring under the translucent roots of this
 
Crystal snake.
A murder of crows visit
 
Regularly; hourly
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.

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