Piker Press — Weekly Journal of Arts and Literature
April 27, 2026

Wordless

"...Cloudless evening holds promise..."

Wordless

Sometimes I hear footsteps, sometimes not
you pull the curtain in a haste
for the chosen few.

When words chase me from
your body, I want to escape,
the swing door returns.

Baritones in blurred conversations
truth is buried,
there are unknown roots within.

Cloudless evening holds promise
persuading our skin,
you end up with a smile.

What about missing the raspberries?
My sugarless mouth
insulates me from your sweet tongue.






More by Gopal Lahiri → More poetry → Full issue →
Share: 𝕏 f
Reader Comments
0 Reader Comments
Leave a Comment






All comments are moderated.
Commenting policy