MOVING IN
MOVING IN
MOVING IN
MOVING IN
Snata Basu
HEADER PHOTO: สัตว์ประหลาด // Kick the Machine © 2004
poetry, may 24
poetry, may 24
For Dada
Sometime before the dawn cracks open,
The brisk half-light air hovers over tiny houses,
Brittle hair on corduroy bottoms
lie on roofs like dried chili to dry themselves,
Nobody can be heard coming in.
The streetlights run red and green,
And the memory of the sound of flat strokes
of straw brooms across dry pavements
settles outside every window in comfortable silence,
Patiently waiting for the breath of the sleeping sun;
Is she to wake up, after all?
Nobody recalls the moonless night,
Or the soot on the brooding furniture,
the torpid layers of mud on the rain boots,
the half-open cardboard boxes in the living room.
Time is bent around my new kettle,
Brewing gold tea with cloves
Still awaiting the whistle,
for some of us haven’t slept at all.
Light skips from door to door,
sometimes, like the week-old newspapers
sitting outside my parents’ home.
I haven’t picked those up in two years --
You see I have moved places,
The sky looks different in this part of the world.
AUTHOR BIO
AUTHOR BIO
AUTHOR BIO
AUTHOR BIO
| Snata Basu is an emerging poet based in Dhaka, Bangladesh. She is currently pursuing an undergraduate degree in English Literature. Her poetry has appeared in The Opiate Magazine and The Daily Star. Her poem, “I Am Less Here, And More with You” previously appeared in Small World City: Issue 02. // instagram |
MOVING IN
MOVING IN
MOVING IN
MOVING IN
Snata Basu
HEADER PHOTO: สัตว์ประหลาด // Kick the Machine © 2004
poetry, may 24
poetry, may 24
For Dada
Sometime before the dawn cracks open,
The brisk half-light air hovers over tiny houses,
Brittle hair on corduroy bottoms
lie on roofs like dried chili to dry themselves,
Nobody can be heard coming in.
The streetlights run red and green,
And the memory of the sound of flat strokes
of straw brooms across dry pavements
settles outside every window in comfortable silence,
Patiently waiting for the breath of the sleeping sun;
Is she to wake up, after all?
Nobody recalls the moonless night,
Or the soot on the brooding furniture,
the torpid layers of mud on the rain boots,
the half-open cardboard boxes in the living room.
Time is bent around my new kettle,
Brewing gold tea with cloves
Still awaiting the whistle,
for some of us haven’t slept at all.
Light skips from door to door,
sometimes, like the week-old newspapers
sitting outside my parents’ home.
I haven’t picked those up in two years --
You see I have moved places,
The sky looks different in this part of the world.
AUTHOR BIO
AUTHOR BIO
AUTHOR BIO
AUTHOR BIO
| Snata Basu is an emerging poet based in Dhaka, Bangladesh. She is currently pursuing an undergraduate degree in English Literature. Her poetry has appeared in The Opiate Magazine and The Daily Star. Her poem, “I Am Less Here, And More with You” previously appeared in Small World City: Issue 02. // instagram |