By: Adreyo Sen

Some are cold hints of an elegy where they stand.
Their silence,
a promise they will be remembered.

No one could see her. Her hunger made her invisible
to people more practiced in smiles.
She was distemper on the wall,
spit mixing with stale tobacco
on the ground.

After she became the violence of spilled petals,
her now involuntary silence was eloquent on the tongues
of well-fed gossip.