Poetry at Sangam

SangamHouse

 










by Priya Sarukkai Chabria

This is a door handle. Push to enter.

                  Hear
the dromedaries’ hard breathing
the small plane drone overhead
large-grain sand scrunching underfoot
your stilled breath ‘cause you think
you’re where time stretches to a stop
but it’s just you on a camel trudging
on in a space where sky and earth carve
separate entities.

Memories, like photographs, live
in the continuous present though
their grains alter each time you enter.

Make yourself into a memory.