Drop the moon in the boiling sea of thoughts.
Let it harden in the bubbling fluid;
Allow its lore-blooded yolk to trickle
and thicken into nostalgic, silver streams.
Pour the fluid into the darkening horizon.
Leave the steaming egg to cool.
Pick it up with your dusty hands
Let the peeling begin.
Drool as its craterous surface gets speckled
with its solidified yolk, like fossilized memories.
Time to eat your breakfast, O dusk!
The shadowy meal is all set.
The digestive courtship of
silence and slumber is for dessert.
Nilotpal Sarmah resides in the city of Guwahati in Assam, India. Inspired by his home state’s landscapes, he turned poetry into his passion and hopes to have a published volume of his works some day.