-Jantar Mantar, October 2 Last week, we dreamed a feathered thing dangled high, in tangled wires— the scent of wood and petrol smoke, the violent glow of pre-dawn fires; some terrors are too large to name— some wounds, so deep, they’ll never mend— still, something’s breaking in the east; friends, even this long night will end.Comments closed
Poems about the dark times.