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by Nithya Mariam John
(Kottayam, Kerala)

the monotony
of the usual curries
made her lie still

lie still under the canopy
of a red sky
and white stars

the aroma
of a fried fish
pricked her buds

buds without
the support of thorns
not yet bloomed

she slithered
like the fish
in his waters

the water
on her surface

for the fried fish
to move
in circles.


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