Contributor: Sanjeev Sethi
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Those were happy hours. Unlike discounted firewater
ours was a rebate on rejoicings. Adagio to allegro con
brio, like a well-prepared orchestra it played on our
rundle. We laughed vacuously if the timpani was out
of sync. In such a setting nothing mattered. When
wads swell even the stingy are advised not to worry
about chump change. We didn’t fuss, it was shipshape.
From god-knows-where nodules of nastiness erupted?
First love and its privation are usually one’s phantom limb.
For me it’s with all my loves. Why do I live in the past?
Does it free me from fear of mutability?
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The recently released, This Summer and That Summer, (Bloomsbury) is Sanjeev Sethi’s third book of poems. His poems have found a home in The London Magazine, The Fortnightly Review, Ink Sweat and Tears, Sentinel Literary Quarterly, The Galway Review, Otoliths, Off the Coast, Literary Orphans, CafĂ© Dissensus Everyday, The Bitchin’ Kitsch, Futures Trading, and elsewhere. He lives in Mumbai, India.
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