Wednesday, June 22, 2022

The Last Move

The fish seek for air, 

the blood gushing through, his scales palpitating.

I throw it back into the river, 

I tread into the dense part of the jungle,

the fishes look at me, 

I don’t find peace,

my violent desires should be relinquished.

The auburn tail and rainbow scales stop flapping,

I stand very still, 

for a moment it is very serene.

Who shall transpire first? 


-Aishwarya Khale

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