Embers of dawn scatter over a pavement
like breadcrumbs little birds peck at, hurriedly,
often leaving some for the others –
Fractured nations navigate lengths and breadths,
their theorems resting within parameters
of geographical territories and biospheres
where terror cries as a newborn infant – between
gunpoint and extracting of breath.
There is nothing here.
Suddenly, the landscape changes – shifting
to the aftermath, a death dance among plastic cans,
shreds of wastepaper, human excreta and so forth –
There are pits deeper than sorrow – in radiuses
The morning is chaotic, in its silent endeavor
of sunlit patches. All is covered in a sleet of calm
and beetle dung.
Sneha Subramanian Kanta straddles paths from linear and discursive lines. Ghettos, immigrants, nations, untold refugee tales, the manufacturing of otherness and writing from the margins are some subject matters of resonance. Her work is forthcoming in Fallujah Magazine, Babbling of the Irrational, Erstwhile Magazine, Sahitya Akademi, Noble/ Gas Qtrly, Stanzaic Stylings and and the first print anthology of Peacock Journal. She is a GREAT scholarship awardee pursuing her second postgraduate degree in literature in the United Kingdom. Write to her on firstname.lastname@example.org