I
“This too shall pass.”
Spoken like a god, I tell you —
How I have placed shoes
inside temples.

II
In our broken house,
all I can give you
Is thirty – one days of love.

III
Guess what?
It’s Winter again. You win.
And I’m still a dilettante.

IV
All my morning was
spent deciding
If love surrounds me
upside
down.

V
If tonight were a map,
I’d cross all borders
to claim
your nameless
grave.

VI
Our love,
like your name,
Is equivocal.

VII
If you were a country
of submerged
temples,
I’d have loved you.

VIII
You have come to talk
to my house
today,
And it responds
with all the love
I gave you.

IX
At mid – day, each ghazal
sounds as weak
as you
I play in lieu
of —
Each ghazal, this Summer,
an eternal due.

X
Pour your fingers into
my —
Whose sea is this?
My land
is but an exile
from yours.

by Sahana Mukherjee

Art – Kimaya Kulkarni