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Ready to be Swallowed

A giant road is emerging. My sandy path 
is ready to be swallowed. Gambol, amble, 

ramble, saunter, stride… My way knows
a variety of my gaits. This is a stamped 

path in my gene as an elephant corridor. 
It’s open for the rat snakes, mongooses,

cats, and men. When I lose my way, no 
one will come to me. The machine claws 

won’t shiver when they pluck my black 
plum tree on the wayside. My silence 

will be deluged by the motor cacophonies.
The hullabaloos will petrify the birds and  

my poetry. The tortoise lying on the grass 
with its head inside serenity is unaware of

the imminent doom. Already molded 
in loss, I can keep up my sangfroid.



First published in The Literary Hatchet (issue 30).
The first prize winning poem in the Poetry Nook Weekly Contest.


Copyright © | Year Posted 2024




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