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3 poems by Anannya Uberoi

Art by Jan Toorop

requiem, madrid

a refugee and his flute      by the royal palace        nobody visits

at nightfall        the voice of a cicada is overhead

where are the bells you can hear from?


dark spices skins with soft humbling dreams a terrace of dry weeds chargrilled air from rags spilling dead masses of ice into its constituent minerals mortal mouths of sunbeams endives igniting butter the brazier beating denned bones up in flames again

revolution is a ripple in set patterns

before shots are charged or headlines flashed, it flies in through attic windows of essayists breaking into poetry, of poets breaking into prose.

Anannya Uberoi (she/her) is a full-time software engineer and part-time tea connoisseur based in Madrid. She is poetry editor at The Bookends Review, the winner of the 6th Singapore Poetry Contest and a Best of Net nominee. Her work has appeared in The Birmingham Arts JournalThe Bangalore ReviewThe Indianapolis ReviewThe Loch Raven Review, and The Madras Courier.

Follow her work on and on Twitter @AnannyaUberoi


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