Forgive thaw
I look at the residue of waves
froth, half-shells and sunset
no voice except its soft belly
gurgling with tides. The sky,
scarred with trails of airplanes
resurrects itself, coagulates.


But the sea
you spend several sunsets
trying to grasp an element
sea-salt strokes your hair
enlightenment is subterranean.


A harp carries you
all light is an open yard.
I kneel to an invisible mercy
under omnipresent starlight.
If you hear me, forgive thaw.


Forgive how it lightens
leaving behind a sea.





About the Author

Sneha Subramanian Kanta is a GREAT scholarship awardee, with a second postgraduate degree in literature from England. Her poem “At Dusk With the Gods” won the Alfaaz (Kalaage) prize. Her work is forthcoming in VIATOR project, former cactus, Verdancies and elsewhere. She is cofounder of Parentheses Journal, a literary initiative that straddles hybrid genres across coasts and climes. Letters on s.sneha01@yahoo.in