EDITOR’S CHOICE AWARD
BY SEKHAR BANERJEE
A prayer is not silence. It is a housing, bombed several times.
You do roll call
of all friends and relatives
in the long nights of December. You enter your sleep
wearing a grey coat,
carrying a notebook and a pomegranate
every night. Each seed is for a departed relative
while the playfield across the street
is covered with blue geraniums and weeds.