The golden arch of a sunlit smile
May or may not precede a death.
We hope for it anyway
You tell me I should live for it,
Anyway,
My smiles, grudges, laughter, wails,
Superimposed into patterns that are if nothing
Interesting to look at.
Unbelievable how I milk my grief into poetry
Unbelievable that it has almost been a year
The strong urge is never going away, is it?
To show you all the newness in the world
The saaree I got for Pujo
All my selfish ventures you might not even have understood.
I do not speak to you in these poems
These are in English, after all,
I do not know who I speak to, after all,
But I will see a different autumn sky this year
Maybe you will, too.