Amit Majmudar, 'Poem that Almost Rhymed'
Sometimes I visit bodies where I almost roamed and the curves are made of clouds I almost dreamed, a consummation missed by just a touch, an air-to-air refueling broken off, the hose retracted and the thirst abandoned as both planes bank in opposite directions. I hold my almosts in a contact list of hands I never held, and never lost, my store of acorns, little lids on ache, my unmates boarding,…
View On WordPress











