Morning Flames

glass windows face the sunbeams,
pale fingers are over there
scratching the months and years,

screaming winds are sending their tails
and there is another dream building
in unopened letters, in blue envelopes,

poison in the blood consumes the new rain,
shadows lick the wall like flames
in the silence of the morning.

in me no love, no dream, no desire
and everywhere ghost promises,
talk some sense in dead memories.

an earthly suffering that engulfs
the borders of the lane, the street,
the city and, finally distils even the time period.

Gopal Lahiri is a bilingual poet, critic, editor, writer and translator with 29 books published, including eight solo/jointly edited books. His poetry and prose are published across more than seventy journals and anthologies globally. His poems are translated in 16 languages. He has been nominated for Pushcart Prize for poetry in 2021. He has received Setu Excellence Award, Pittsburgh, US, in poetry. Read other articles by Gopal.