For Prism Zoetrope

A chasm within a chasm within India
and a world of favourite colour.
Locked in a summer euphoria of wild and
breath taking nowheres.
A lack,
but a lock of keys to mine--they're caste aside.
And braiding the margins.
And the moments.
And learning to use "I" not as an "I"

but as an address of "you".

And a love that stains glasses.
In a grandmother quilt, I dream of you raining across the continent,

a river across my fields.

Reviews

[Nao Deguchi]

You give your audience just enough merit and food to want to hear more, but it's a bit of a frustrating catch22. The start and the end seemed stronger than the body fo the work, which made it a peculiar poem to read.