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Bombay,1959

Rating: 4.5

Indolent dust drifts over the roofs and drains of my city.
Barber shops and a lip of rose water, soiled boxes
stacked with rendered fruit, faraway, the chug-chug
of a bus leaning forward like an animal hunting water.
Mumbai half shut down, alcoves falling into darkness.

One electric bulb coming on in a rooming house,
heat resting in hallways and squalid yellow rooms.
Your suitcase carried away beyond the dry hydrant.
A forgotten lipstick tube opened and never closed.

Our bed against the window, draped mosquito netting,
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COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Aftab Alam Khursheed 29 March 2013

red lips flung like coins into the face of a beggar...shining and sarcastic selected nice diction

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