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 Oct 2021 Sukanya Sinha Roy
Crow
we do not write poetry
we write mirrors
which are held up
to curious faces
who read
looking for their
own reflections
High mountain

Body
Transparent

Shimmering
Leaf-like

Veined-

Dancin­g thru
Ether-

Windblown ice,

Beyond heat
And cold

Dancing thru
Ethereal
Soul
Would you eat
something called
a chicken dumping?
Well I use to,
three older brothers and a sister
I ate mostly dumplings!
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