Aruni Kashyap Poems

If you come back,
There will be no sun,
like the day when we met for the last time in your room.
...

I have known this river like tea leaves.
I have bathed, ran on its wet sands.
Grappled in its shallow banks for fishes and caught tadpoles.
...

Trees moved along, clouds too
with the moon, the about-to-drown orange-sun
in sooty hours, slow;
they boiled down to a single feeling:
...

There was no sun. So goats didn't bleat
and rush under trees, sheds; the stray dogs
that roamed around quarrelling over pieces
of meat in garbage dumps hotfooted to
...

We huddle around Ma as
our gabled tin-roofs vibrate
during round-moon nights,
when bee-hives drip like wasted howling desires
of an elephant tethered to the banyan tree trunk.
...