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  Ashok Niyogi
   
      DUSK

Today,
a gust of wind
came hard and sudden,
blew away
earth,
and left fallen leaves,
yellow with death,
a carpet over hollow.

Black, gaping,
toothless in rictus.
Knowledge will swallow,
blackbirds of time,
dead leaves will rhyme
with bones bleached
by tomorrow's sun.

Big drops
of pregnant rain
give birth in pain.
After, the chasm
vaporizes time,
premature dusk
incubates in heat
from the loins
of parched earth
yearning for orgasm.

Half made up moon
cajoles time
to meet with time,
even as it wanes.
Impatient,
it swipes at spores
of wispy cloud,
to shine loud
at dead grass
yellow in shadow.



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