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November 28, 2022

Pestilence

By Aneek Chatterjee

Pestilence

Silence had a rhythm
earlier
But when it is everywhere,
the big avenue weeps
and red ants whisper inside
The naked tree only houses
black crows, drowsy
Known faces look cinematic
under a visible mask
This silence is devoid of
syllables,
only pestilence knows






Article © Aneek Chatterjee. All rights reserved.
Published on 2020-08-31
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