Poetry at Sangam



Nestle (for Shital Morjaria) by K. Srilata

Fears, yours and mine,
of things various:
pigeons, being stuck in the elevator,
driving,  losing an argument,
falling through the cracks,
of being locked out,
of being locked in
and just the awful, permanent fright of being,
the weight of the self in resistance to the world,
against which, fellow-fledgling, we need
this nestle, this slapdash orange nest,
its fraility, its strength.