Nivedita N, Poetry 2021 Featured Writer

That Stench At The Train Station

The winter fog blanketed the station 

In its own embrace but that stench 

of god-knows-what-not 

had entered surreptitiously

 

The two-hour wait before the train arrived 

was the time for our game: 

dashing our brown and 

green VIP suitcases 

as our parents watched

 

soon when we’d stop and 

that stench would return 

crowding our minds like 

the hurried passengers 

on those arthritis-inducing staircase 

we followed suite, 

entering the compartment 

and there the stench was:

awaiting, 

like the seat passenger 

looking into your plate of lemon rice 

curious about its texture. 

Nivedita Narsapuram, Poetry 2020, Featured Writer

If:

I could smell poetry tonight

Sniff it off the moon and pass it in your arms, causera of your body.

I could capture the twilight in your bones and write about the iridescence.

I could smell poetry tonight

Pinch it off the clouds and sprinkle it over your eyelashes, the metre for your soul.

I could capture the stardust and dab it on your enamelled cheeks.


I could smell poetry tonight

Snap you out of the veracity of life and gift you glass slippers, a couplet for me

I could capture your footsteps and fill my pen with it to write you a ballad