Memories Of Super Cyclone - Poem by Manu Dash
A wound swells up
somewhere in the dark recess of memory.
Nobody wants for a while
to assess where the road led.
This old bull has no agenda
other than food and occasional sex.
Scamsters have joined
their milky hands for good.
Relief trucks are no longer seen stranded
at bypass roads. And a preparation
for braving another catastrophe
is taking a definite shape in the womb of time.
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