By: Pijush Kanti Deb

I give a chase to it
yet the sun
doesn’t rise in the west,

I jump on it
still I find myself always
lying below a merciless rapist,

I scratch on it
nevertheless the honey is sucked
by a tartar I have accidently caught,

I pray to it
but my cheque is bounced back
to my empty purse,

I bribe to it
and then it comes to a stand-still
to welcome the sun which rises in the west.