Treasure Island

Jay Kasturi


What is in between


The stars surface above the hills as if from a darkening
Polaroid negative,
The last bird has reached home – purple glow, in Bengal,
it is the cow-dust time.
The dusk hangs between the vertical blinds, like longitudes
I had once to choose from,
where still I cannot go back to look for what I lost
at the day’s beginning.
Happiness is not remembering, not looking for the meaning,
just the middle filling the eye.

(1999)

Submitted: Monday, December 16, 2013
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