The line between god and river is thin.
Father’s father’s ashes
in the Ganges
On his desk,
Snapshot of nude chest
in
open boat.
bare arm stretched
brightorange marigolds and
pained face entwine
against dull Grey waters.
No sacred rivers for me.
Mahim Creek, perhaps.
Blue plastic bags
and I
wave a hello
to passers by on the 9:15 local
Moored in murky
Kottayam backwaters instead.
southbombaysoul
too pungent for that gentle streamhome?
Weeds, undergrowth, fire-flyfeeding water lilies chant:
Short on sacred rivers here
Short on sacred rivers here
…
Flinga
flippant
coin
into
Panchganga-
enroute
Vadgaon
Close-your-eyes,
make-a-wish
make-a-wish
make-a-wish
daddy says.