time
our linear obsession with the one lane race toward death saps life from limb,
it's only rewards guilt's bitter aftertaste and a memory of something akin to regret.
we run trip tumble and throw ourselves at immortality only to gasp,
baffled when it splits and swallows us like the softest gauze.
i watched another sun sink into the haze of the delhi horizon,
warmed my hands on its glow and prayed for one more day in the depths of its heat.