Like a caged prize fighter I watch him prowl Oblivious to my eyes Marking his every step Cross waste land void of green trees His paws curl like a boxer’s glove,
This wood lined creature Perched on the bow of a disgruntled oak. With the finesse of a pirouetting ballerina Or a lily on the film of a pond, Stirring ripples in the breeze.
As the train pulls out of the stations We look out onto India’s burnt dry landscape. Arid like the Sahara, its mountains resemble the dunes. This carcass crawls along the rusted tracks