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.
...

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
...

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:
...

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.
...