Poetry by Tabish Nawaz: ‘I breath to fluidize the gravels / but they fall back / like the debris in a city / bombed for months.’

The ecopoems in Gopal Lahiri’s Anemone Morning delve into a kind of exploratory myth that engages readers with creative potential, stressing that there could be no division between who we are and where we are. By Dustin Pickering

Poetry by Sambhu R.: ‘Our reflections walk out of mirrors, / ashamed to take on / the semblance of our sinister shapes’

Poetry by Ankush Banerjee: ‘Before anaesthesia shatters / the bough of your body, before the / moon overhead is a mouth of darkness, you / pray they fill the space between dislocated hip / & future with what you heard but / could never hold’

Poetry by Mrittika Chatterjee: ‘Windows cradle the world’s weight— / concerns, french braided, / but strands, a newly freed tribe. / Steering wheel clutched, / as if holding an inner child’

Poetry by Carol D’Souza: ‘An armour is only the skin / that has learned / that there is no such thing /
as face value / The prudent trick / of seeming like a free-flowing ditty / from within’

Poetry by Kashiana Singh: ‘Flushed body of a zombie, burnt silk of raging worms / beholder of lost labyrinths, embroiderer of membranes’

Poetry: ‘I want to weave lavender flowers into my hair / love my mother, whose anger / is a withering flower / decomposing to memory / in ash burn lavender.’

Poetry: ‘I placed my parents on a bench / And refused to let the sunset / Dawn upon their lives.’

Poetry by Kiriti Sengupta: ‘Death pauses verdict; the authority mars evidence. / The doomed is put on the pyre; rallies slit through / the silence.’

Poetry by Vrinda Bansal: ‘I am rage and blasphemy, God in a dungeon, / a domesticated wolf, the brain of a terrorist party / I am your grandmother’s birthday party and a child’s funeral, / a barrel of kerosene’

Poetry by Smita Agarwal: ‘The dahlias grow hawa mey— / off the air, we’d say / Down steep ravines / into which the monsoon // munificence would flow’