By: Babitha Marina Justin
The sun sets in an orange pallor blinding traffic lights. A bronzed lake steps into my autumn, a gentle winter glazing the tropics. The dusky coconut palms envelop a warm sun with their tender fingers. The day gently lowers its wick. The night waits like an impatient lover. There shines my bit of the moon: a crescent of frosted silver. Your cities are far away. Mine has a sun, a wilting flower in a roomy vase. You are just a fingertip away. Two clicks will lead me like magic to your sweet nothings. The poems you wrote for me are the green patches on my swamp. In this twilight, I imagine your distant sky as I watch the clouds wash the blue into a heartless grey and the green slowly die into misty night.
I am Babitha Marina Justin, a poet from Kerala, South India and my poems have appeared in Eclectica Magazine, Adolphus Journal, Silver Needle Press, Ogazine, The Four Quarters Magazine, Taj Mahal Review, Kritya and Journal of Post-Colonial Literature. My first collection of poetry, Of Fireflies, Guns and the Hills, was published by the Writers Workshop in 2015.