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Poetry – Spring 2014


In real life, she wasn’t blue like in the comics,
she was dark as soot,
probably darker.
She appears when we’re not looking
her parents only wanted a boy to do all the fighting

Street Dog Dreams: Rashbehari Avenue

Is he riding shotgun in an auto-rickshaw, his scarred ears
flapping in the diesel dust?

Eulogy to a Skinny Midriff

On summer trips overseas when I was 3, 6, 9, 12,
My aunties used to whisper, What are you feeding her?

Pankti in Five Padas

So you remember Superman,
not Shaktimaan, veal not enthu
cutlets in Ramarajan pants
turning up half hour early
to help the host host his party?

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