Of Journeying between Worlds – Borderless
The Cat’s Daughters
We imagine
our mother aging. We worry about her. She tells us:
If the basil dies and the milk curdles, come
save me. And so,
the basil dies and the milk curdles
and we go off on our travels. No,
we marry neither the merchant
nor the river prince. We birth
neither pestles
nor pumpkins. We want to find
our mother, see her silver eyes, touch
her old fur,
kiss her fish-mouth again.
Nitoo Dass
Crowbite
A Review of Nitoo Das’s Crowbite by Basudhara Roy Title: Crowbite Author: Nitoo Das Publisher: Red River, 2020 In her essay, ‘Woman and Bird’ in What is Found There: Notebooks on Poetry and Politic…
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