Subhashini Kaligotla
First to go was the talisman—
The elephant who carried rain clouds.
Then brocades and bolsters and millefleur carpets.
Next the girl and boy who served cocktails and zinnias.
After the woman nothing was left. Though still to go: sounds
Overheard through shuttered windows. When his voice grew strange
Like vowels in another language, he reclaimed her: a pitch,
In the mewl of a hinge, and lost that too—body, voice, the keening.