It’s a little too quiet everywhere.
After evening fell,
enemy planes have dropped
on my house
a bomb of silence.
The sound of its engine,
like a giant dragonfly,
made me bury my head in the pillow,
and then run out of my home.
I wander in the streets,
and consider signing
a defense pact
with the ambassador of silence.
Afterwards, heads of hushed army snipers
pop up on every rooftop.
Observing that I am returning home,
they tip their helmets to salute me.
From Exile Poems: In the Labyrinth of Homesickness, published 2022 by Bridge & Tunnel Books. © 2022 by Tuhin Das. By arrangement with the publisher. All rights reserved.
