Something about your river obscures fiefdom –
Did you hear ensconced stories dangling their feet,
immersed? Careful with caressing flicks!
Did you think clouds were consoling
when you held the cold arms of your sobbing soul?
Forget the hokey castle, some games were phoney narratives
— Looks like your omens were tipsy last night
Would you rather ask the solitary maple
— How long till my blood turns blue?
Something about your afternoon bare and intrepid
waits for a boat…
a destiny untouched
— I can swim with your shoals, hunts and sojourns.
Just dress me up in those fins you collected from the fair.
– Shaan Bagchi