Pinned to the ground that is her shadow
By a thousand Lilliputian laughs.

Nothing can touch her.

Sing a melody that will untangle
The dark cloud of her hair.

Is this the box they will bury me in?
Her day has been rigid, and square.

Neither bone nor blood.

What she longs for is
The heart of a helium circle.

She sees patterns everywhere.

Sampurna Chattarji

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