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Pradip Chattopadhyay
Poems
Aug 2016
Fishseller's Wife
I didn't see her for three days
then she was back
but her color was not
where her hair parted
was starkly arid
on her forehead
wasn't the dot of red
and her saree was bleached white
yet nothing was amiss
she intently scaled the fishes
cut them neatly into pieces
though a piece of her went missing
She knows well
for no price
can she stop the sale.
Written by
Pradip Chattopadhyay
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