2 poems by Sukrita Paul Kumar

Photo by Gertrude Käsebier

The Rustle of Leaves


its leaves

in you,

my daughter,


my history;

I am,

I know now,

my mother,

as you

are yours.


Unloyal Memory

Each time

I look back,

Open the locks

enter the room

clear the cobwebs

I see more


hold something less in my hands.

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