Author’s Note: The poem tries to uncover the gnawing sense of loneliness and alienation that has become a characteristic feature of life in the cities. With every passing day, no matter how well we remain connected to the outside world through social media, there is always this sense of emptiness that devours us. This poem tries to capture that sense of angst and the problematics of belonging.
A Room Too Small for Sunsets
The toaster has thrown up.
The alarm that had been snoozed twice
And the coffee beans hard as immigration rules Lie scattered, waiting for
The perfect hangover
Before they walk toward
Their expiry dates.
In the room
Too small for sunsets
I sit by a window
And watch the city
Not on anybody’s map
Become a river.
The streets that play
Hide-and-seek with the traffic lights
Will come wandering inside my head
And set up tents.
In the end
I sleep with my fingers
On the zippers of the sky.
♦
Sayan Aich Bhowmik is assistant professor of English at Shirakole College, in Kolkata, India. He is the coeditor of Plato’s Caves Online, a semi-academic blog on poetry, culture, and politics. His poems have appeared in South Florida Poetry Journal, Indian Ruminations, Kitaab, Scarlet Leaf Review and Dust Poetry Magazine, among others.
Delmarva Review publishes evocative poetry, fiction, and nonfiction selected from thousands of new submissions during the year. Designed to encourage outstanding new writing, the literary journal is nonprofit and independent. Financial support comes from tax-deductible contributions and a grant from Talbot Arts with funds from the Maryland State Arts Council. Website: www.DelmarvaReview.org
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