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By Sarah Das Gupta


water polishes refines

reduces to the essence

the hand grasps a polished stone

fine blue veins stretch

across the smooth surface

a drowned coin gleams

re-baptised in sand and water

its value trebled by

the river’s constant flow.

In the dark shallows

leaves are water-logged

soon skeletons absorbed

in primeval mud

the alpha and omega

a log skinned by the current

sheds its green scales

sinks till only a hunch backed

savaged spine

threatens summer skies

patiently the water wears

the rocks

a century or two

may break the strongest will

the green hair of

long dead girls

trails in the river’s flow                   

bones rise and fall

on the gritty bed

not transformed

 to twisted coral

nor to translucent pearls

just white bones

worn wearily away

part of the slime

drifting slowly



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