That day when our boat hit the hope-shore
We met the barbed assurance at gun point
Our fate again clutched the back gear
On the stormy front.
The dream of heaven was like a minor pregnant girl
Bleak and baleful
A lazy siesta and bitter hunger was the talk of our eyes
We carried our coffins
Toward the deep waters cemetery.
Pitambar Naik grew amidst paddy fields hearing heartrending folk songs and playing kabbadi in Odisha in India. He toils hard and sweats as a copywriter with words and colours in an advertising studio for a living and dreams audaciously to be a writer. His woks have appeared in The New Indian Express, Hans India, Occulum, Bhashabandhan Review, HEArt Online, Coldnoon, Spark Magazine, CLRI, Indian Review, Wordweaver India, Indian Ruminations, Brown Critique, Galaxy-IMRJ, Tuck Magazine, Indian Periodical, Phenomenal Magazine, Metaphor, Dissident Voice, Muse India and elsewhere. He can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org
–Art by Marina Ćorić