Asylum
The wall thick enough
to render the angry chorus
of the chamri-patti
into an indistinct murmur,
yet thin enough
to let in clearly
the early morning chants
of the temple,
the vehement symphony
of the parading helicopters;
the paralysis in forever
surveying the evening air
as a marionette
inside the family car,
a distress in the lower
abdomen, that you do not
have a word for. Lured
by the silver envelops
of the orderly elegance
of the first snowfall,
you step on to the snow–
barefoot. Somewhat eager
to learn new words.
The possibility of persistent
blizzards is not what you
had anticipated. Neither
did you think the un-marked
gravestones could reinstall
the barbed wires in between
your own palm-lines. While
counting the blisters
in between your toes,
you long for the bones
of your father’s embrace.
Nandini Dhar is the author of the book Historians of Redundant Moments (Agape Editions, 2017). Her poems have recently appeared or are forthcoming in New England Review, Epiphany, Fugue, Memorious, New South, Best New Poets 2016, and elsewhere. Nandini hails from Kolkata, India, and divides her time between her hometown and Miami, Florida, where she works as an Assistant Professor of English at Florida International University.