I imagine myself being hit by a speeding sedan Over and over again. I allow red water balloons to splatter in my mind during prayer. I look on, as once more the pariah silently slipping in between the black hedges, is somehow always returning. I walk through the traffic of men, and cannot match their urgency. I am secretly terrified by purpose. Sometimes, I feel the sky shallower here in this city. It’s streetlamps which spill everywhere; are beautiful orange, and unconsoling.
Adithya Patil is a student and poet based in Bangalore, India. His poems have appeared in different journals including Modern Literature, Borderless Journal and most recently in Muse India.
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