Winter’s Tale

by Bibhu Padhi (January 2014)

 

The remote bones suddenly

surface from nowhere.

 

Lean lines

of a contraction

run along the limbs.

 

Where is the touch

that heals?

 

The evening has no answer.

 

The bones go slowly

brittle, turn dark

just as the evening does,

 

rest perilously

on themselves.

 

Summer is a dream,

hovering above

 

the other hemisphere.

 

To comment on this poem, please click here.

here.