summer heat
a cobra's hood
over the water tank
—Suraja Menon Roychowdhury
in a carpet of green red velvet spider lilies
—Suraja Menon Roychowdhury
pencil flavor nothing to write about
—Suraja Menon Roychowdhury
funeral procession ...
I step back
into my bed of daisies
and oh, how I mourn
the crushed flowers
—Suraja Menon Roychowdhury
the ticking clock
stipples the darkness
with its punctuation -
a comma, your back
another fight that we both lost
—Suraja Menon Roychowdhury
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