by Satya Dash


The impeachment of sky triggered
by miracles of crosshair lightning,      

new batch

of pure molasses drizzled
into dream cries — look, I’m not here

to show

you light, I’m here to finally meet the demon
that escaped my attic, that without permitting

an ascent

of my consent unlatched the stars
shaking the meadow’s blanket, edifying

the only fig tree

for miles of field, the leaves breathing
irreverence, the storm arriving windless,

laying wreath

and departing without narrative but not before
dousing the grazing animal’s morning grass

in warm

marine tension, bookmarks pinning me
to the gummy pages my soft guts

spill into. O father

listening in heaven,  O lover hiding
behind the rocks— forgive me

if I remember you now.


SATYA DASH is the recipient of the 2020 Srinivas Rayaprol Poetry Prize. His poems appear in Waxwing, Wildness, Redivider, Passages North, The Boiler, The Florida Review, Prelude, The Cortland Review, and The Journal, among others. Apart from having a degree in electronics from BITS Pilani-Goa, he has been a cricket commentator, too. He has been nominated previously for Pushcart, Best of the Net, and Best New Poets. He grew up in Cuttack and now lives in Bangalore, India. He tweets at: @satya043 


Photo: “B&W Fig Tree” by David Denicolò