Four poems from Whispering City

Prajna Desai

28 August 2013

Waiting for rats


Nothing: 1

I sweeten as do onions


In the end is carbon dark.



Nothing: 3

Brackish and blue belong


             Look here:

In the puddle

             A white kitten floats;

A handkerchief the colour of its eyes

             Slitting the neck.



Nothing: 5

If you think there is more to me

you force the blankness to blacken.



Nothing: 7

Poets, thinkers,

                   I am beyond your ken.

                   An incomplete sentence,

Like the shape of the sickle moon

 Only stammerers can make poems       

                  For me.

                  I am a broken pavement.



Prajna Desai is a writer who lives presently in Mumbai.

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