(10 November 1954 - / Kolkata / India)

Out the hull of the boat falls the scull

Out the hull of the boat falls the scull
into the water

One heave of the ashblack water and then darkness

Where is that fallen scull now?

Two inquisitive fish, two pieces of stone, wood, a broken bicycle
Driven into the muck next to a ring, a couple of coins.
Their eyes gleam in the dark. They have been in the water
so long they are turning into its creatures.

Landing near the lost scull, I see
it has grown wings, spikes on its back, a horn on its nose
and tied by a rope to its horn that giant boat which it steers
again through rain past the fogged and drowning world.

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