M. K. Ajay
Poems by M. K. Ajay
Red first, then the pale white of jasmine,
cotton rolls in a dispensary.
In summer, a wetness that arrives at dusk.
A moss forest, ferns old as time itself,
a sun hidden by monsoon clouds,
cotton rolls in a dispensary.
In summer, a wetness that arrives at dusk.
A moss forest, ferns old as time itself,
a sun hidden by monsoon clouds,