Mukta Asnikar‘s untitled poem

When Tara asked us – 

with her eyes closed – 

our eyes to close; 

to put one hand on our belly and the other on our heart, 

I wondered why the left hand went down 

and the right one arose 

until after a few minutes, 

when it felt kind of like an embrace.

That’s what it was about, I suppose.

At least that’s what the arms chose.

Mukta Asnikar lives in Pune, Maharashtra (IN). She translates, writes and makes music sometimes. She indulges in world cinema, walks under rows of big old trees. Mukta sports a long black coat these days, the one she is particularly fond of. 

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