Poetry: Zinia Mitra

Darjeeling

Between creases of sleep and wakeful states of years     

the molten sunlight flits on ikshkus leaves  

eternity breathes behind the other slope

Darjeeling exists in a dream.

Pine trees shiver in green pherans

their aging shoulders stoop, touch mine 

peace flags with Buddha’s message 

flap colorful undertones in the wind.

Kitchen fumes spiral upwards

like affirmations of some hermetic faith    

each footstep replies to the other in boulevard silence 

chorbatos meander deep down into the unconscious.

Memories swirl on teagarden gradients 

yearning days, beggar nights, dim yellow-bulbed love-makings

cross the road to Oxford bookstore

like the penumbra of a kite’s full wingspan.

A whiff of horses’ pungent smell

the gale eats into the flesh, rain.

I wrap a half-wet dream in my woolen shawl, scrawl

a name on a condensed windowpane. 

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Zinia Mitra teaches English in the University of North Bengal. She writes from Siliguri, Darjeeling. Her poems have been published in National and International journals. She has authored books.

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Local 2020 :: Setu, June 2020