October

the nocturnal hum was greasy

in overtones of sordid rain

that lashed its needle fingers

upon slippery moss mattresses.

parched leaves and bushes

preached as thunder strokes roared

like church gatherings — on Sundays,

rising in green and transparent dew.

 

the earth welcomed insects

as newer bursts of leaves grew and fell,

in soft tunnels within trees they resided

to retreat after the present day sun sank.

 

newer sunrises pressed their thumb

upon small alleys and narrow streets —

burst into their midpoint — rotated over,

in scatters of a faint yellow sleet.

— Sneha Subramanian Kanta
Sneha straddles paths from linear and discursive lines. Ghettos, immigrants, nations, untold refugee tales, the manufacturing of otherness and writing from the margins are some subject matters of resonance. Her work is forthcoming in Fallujah Magazine, 7X20 mag, Erstwhile Magazine, Sahitya Akademi, Noble/ Gas Qtrly, Epigraph Magazine and the first print anthology of Peacock Journal. She is a GREAT scholarship awardee pursuing her second postgraduate degree in literature in the United Kingdom. Write to her at s.sneha01@yahoo.in

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