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Poetry of Issue #8        Page 44

Sleep Rocks The Boat

On the boat sleep reclines.
The pipes of the ceiling rocks until
they are all liquid; behind
the thin veil of the cabin wall
a faint forgiving quarrel plops up
between the couple of other semantics.
The couple of somnabulence, waves;
the waves of the seas;
and I think of the war between the propellers
and the water; the shore is
an obscure medal sans any meaning
when achieved.
My grandmother appears in the dream
in her Sunday best for my grandfather
lying in his cheap coffin just to grin
at his bequeath; what he has left rides
the Noah's ark; sleep talks to
the couple fighting. Dream sports
a meaningless medal for its valory

Kushal Poddar