The Case Of A Concealed Letter Poem by Rites Ghosh

My soul now lies
in brown hours
like the unravished letter
trapped inside a brown envelop.

Its packed substance
that buries the most unknown me
stands under delay's sovereign trial-
tedious air hooks a body up-

Let's not be hopeful
as to the fate of the letter.

No, no! its tight lipped patience is
most suicidal.

Sorry! some letters are written
not to be read at all-
postman drops them in enigmatic void.

some words are for ever brown-
or, meant for careful burial.
or, on the unmindful mossy floor
they would cause the world
to slip and suffer million accidents.