Navakanta Barua

N
Navakanta Barua
Palestine
We housed them in prisons
For they wanted a home,
We killed them for they wanted eternal life
Then bulldozed their prisons into fields of corn.

What's that hand sticking out from the earth?
Other hands will sprout from it—
And tickle us to death.
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The Belt Of The Spinning Wheel
The corded belt of my mother’s spinning wheel
was a mystery to me
spool after spool is used up
the distended bobbins pile up in the basket
the empty reel takes a spin or two and stops

But the belt of the spinning wheel is unending
I don’t see its ends, just see it move
spelling it out carefully, I write on my slate
Eternal.

One day the cord of the spinning wheel
became quite another thing
I saw a bare string lying on the cement floor
And, after that
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