A poem by Purbasha Roy

bunch of small pieces of white and red stones

Concrete-ing Melancholy

It's like an obsession with salt
sprinkled on watermelon cubes
kept like a small hill in transparent glassware
between the thumb and forefinger
I pick the white grains and sprinkle
in circular fractals , radii always less
than plate circumference
I see the act of their soundless disappearance
inside red placenta
their bodies speedily unrecognizable
I lick my fingers
this is the almost behaviour of misery
in river of normalcy of world
I am aware of the visible desires of my body
you call over phone and say "can't make it for brunch"
the loud myna interrupts the tide
of gorgeous silence around me
I sink the fork in juicy pieces
and leave the dining
my immature hunger hardens into
a shapeless melancholy


She is a writer from Jharkhand India. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in  Bluestem DASH View magazine Bayou Review Long Con magazine Hive avenue and elsewhere. Secured second position in Singapore-Unbound Time-Regime Contest 2022.

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