Poetry – Jagari Mukherjee


Elves are mixing the blue of the sky
and the yellow of the sun
in the Palette of Everything…
At Babo’s
in Neustadt, Dresden
I’m drinking the complimentary
hot Turkish green apple tea
in a tiny glass, sugared like
an emerald addiction …
The lonely girl’s hair at the
next table is spiked to resemble
green strands of straw…
It is 2005
and I am bolder than
I am today, daring to
pencil in a sea-green eyeliner
that shimmers like stars
hiding in the sea…
I am not alone–there are others
but all I want is for the elves
to turn my hair into green straw:
I order green icecream
of a soothing pastel shade–
and wonder if the impression may last
for a decade
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