Arun Paria
Poems by Arun Paria
A new bride has come, the palanquin has left.
Those who’ve come late — the old viewers: grim.
Brittle-finger mothers measure the skin
of the girl. Her ornaments' weight. Hair. Teeth.
The onlookers grow. This new girl’s laugh —
Those who’ve come late — the old viewers: grim.
Brittle-finger mothers measure the skin
of the girl. Her ornaments' weight. Hair. Teeth.
The onlookers grow. This new girl’s laugh —