from Pen-y-Cil

KK Sharma

from Pen-y-Cil

…island of the tides where ebb and flow mingle and smoke spray dies over cut-wire cliffs…

but here — from Pen-y Cil below charcoal-smudged horizons pilgrims wash themselves in the wind and waver into rippled space losing all mass in the thickening squall gusts disfigure their open mouths arms flail to catch distance in a knapsack skeletal minds fly-off westerly seeking a kraal

and here Enlli arises shoe-like from a fairy tale hem of her cloak veiling all loss in a wrinkle of silence

KK Sharma