There are days you
smell of
sad white linen and


and I let you brush off
cobwebs from
my back and

cigarette stubs
from my

… and you
drown yourself, in
drunken whiffs of

long withered buttercup
breasts, and

sea-salt smiles

There are days I
toss, mustard
seeds and lima

beans, my
cluttered beads
of rosary

and wonder why
someone with a
smile like

breaking open

would drift to sleep, to
paltry thighs, and


There are days our
tiny porch lies
strewn with flaming

leaves of Chinar

and you gently
blow them snowflakes
off my sweatcaked

sleeping, forehead

and you let me
lie, amongst
solitary chirps

of homecoming
swallows, gathering

wishing I knew.

Previously published on: Poems by Ritoshree Chatterjee with Illustrations from Subarnarekha Pal — Plato’s Caves online (wordpress.com)



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Ritoshree Chatterjee

Ritoshree Chatterjee

Ritoshree Chatterjee pursues her undergraduate degree in English literature and struggles to locate herself through writing amidst the chaos.