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 Journal, The Bangalore Review, The Indianapolis Review, The Loch Raven Review, and The Madras Courier.
Follow her work on www.anannyauberoi.com and on Twitter @AnannyaUberoi