City Night written by Sneha Subramanian Kanta at

City Night

City Night

written by: Sneha Subramanian Kanta


The amber ambrosia of pink evenings scatter
revisions of hope on satellite television revised
for night’s fodder. Three stray dogs bark at
midnight in differential segments of tunes, all
three diffident because far they are from the
moon. Automobiles leave dust that aeroplanes
trace over clouds, all a smoky valve of
brownish-purple. While the music lasts, blades
of half-dried grass scour breezes and clad
themselves with pollution and dust. “It will be
monsoon soon”, I hear somebody say. The acid
rain of this year will perhaps be more stringent,

I must think. The books lay lined upon wooden
shadows of drawers where passages in echoes
of unread pages reside. There is some hope, for
rosebuds in the garden are half-opened for night.
The dark dashes against the maroon-red as blood
slowly makes its way through the veins. The city
does not sleep and yet is restless in its hiding.

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