She tells me faces seep into her prayers and eyes fold into droplets still breathing in the ice.
She tells me heart shakes the stretched-open memories from all the bones and hands flow past the wind wanting to belong in time.
She tells me on such days the bite of frost slips through the lumps of her breath and she sees tomorrows lacing the dead waiting to break loose from the tunnel of hope.
Debasis Mukhopadhyay‘s work has appeared often on I Am Not A Silent Poet and has also appeared in many journals including The Curly Mind, Thirteen Myna Birds, Yellow Chair Review, Of/Which, Silver Birch Press, The Bitchin’ Kitsch, Foliate Oak, Eunoia Review, Snapping Twig, With Painted Words, Revolution John, Fragments of Chiaroscuro, Words Surfacing, among others. He lives and writes in Montreal, Canada. Follow him https://debasismukhopadhyay.wordpress.com/or @dbasis_m on Twitter.