[Poem] Traveler | Emon Kalyan Dutta


Two plump toes went printing,

The map of a hungry heart.

Like a flame in wind,

Gliding, resting,

Smearing milestones in smoke.

The traveler bought beads of hues,

From touchy traders’ stock.

He stringed them round the chest.

Someday in a tempest,

The toes stopped treading.

In a wrap of walls, in a warble of time,

Beside a lantern’s wick,

The beads were burning.


Editorial Staff

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