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From ULR
Issue 15 – REFUSE
Old Dreams of Home, Kolkata
July 25, 2026
- You were where the fennel seed was.
Caught in my gums.
Sharp and tricky, I curled my tongue into a knot
over a thousand parts of one second
Frustrated, I reached a finger in to pull you out
and flicked you away. - What does a grandmother do to survive?
Mine fed me thrice a day for twenty-five years—food, love, lies.
While she was full with all her own swallowed refusal
What is left of her now that I am gone?
She still feeds—secrets, curses, leftovers
To the crow outside the window. - I was the taut bends of live fish
Flailing, stretching inside a perched cauldron
Calling to be butchered.
And draining out the siren songs from elsewhere was the fish-man’s call,
A huge katla hung around his neck, dying.
He was trying to sell me a lie.
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PART OF A COLLECTIONOld Dreams of Home, Kolkata and 2 Other Poems
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