Manjari Chakravarti

If I could write poems I would write about how sand feels when it slips away from under the feet. I would write about mirages and how songs lurk at the corner of my mind and cannot be recalled. I would write about words that woke me sweetly and words that made me cry for sleep. About longings that would not be harnessed, and dirty dishes that remained to be washed. And lemon light and black shadows and a single shop at the corner of a deserted street in an old, old dream