a poem by Abhilipsa Sahoo

Time has allowed me to look
wide at the dark, into its fierce eyes
quietly layered under clumsy edges
without wanting anything back,

I take note of the velocity
with which my pupils grow
and that is how desperate they are
to grope for the shape of things we know,

Space has permitted me
some distance from grief; photons
gathered in the empyrean lose track
of those escaping the corner of my eye,

A spectrum of floating emotions
is all I view on a dimmed laboratory wall
for all I know, shadows do not go gentle into
the writhing figures of diligence,

I dare not fathom the ways
light filters into the crevices or
blends in the stark horizon; one evening
risen above a thousand mediocre sunsets,

And how the crimson flickers on
and off the lighthouse
dilates like a perfect morning
between the parallels of the yonder and the sea.

Perhaps, if we ever see this far,
might not our eyes
catch hold of the dark?

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