Sonnet by Shamik Banerjee
One noonday, having downed a moreish lunch, I ambulated up a lane where old And nameless trees, with ancient tales untold, Saluted me. I watched the masons munch Ghee-dipped parathas. Suddenly, a bunch Of winter's adamantine clouds were holed By shooting beams, as if some rods of gold Had been dropped by The Artisan. I hunched Over a fence and mused: if that same dome Of purple-blue stretched out to foreign spaces I'd longed to go and if that very lane Contained the same earth as those scenic places, Then I've already visited Bahrain Or treaded on the holy grounds of Rome.
Shamik Banerjee is a poet from India. He resides in Assam with his parents. His poems have appeared in Fevers of the Mind, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, and Westward Quarterly, Dreich, The Hypertexts, among others, and some of his poems are forthcoming in Willow Review and Ekstasis, to name a few.
