This poem is taken from Stand 234, 20(2) June - August 2022.
Two Poems
Sweet Water
Last round of the lane, dusk falling
across the district,
he’s back where he began after the morning prayer,
hangs up his skin on a nail in the hurting wall
...
Last round of the lane, dusk falling
across the district,
he’s back where he began after the morning prayer,
hangs up his skin on a nail in the hurting wall
...
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