city of cream

sweetheart, the lover calls beneath a window.
prayer, the mu’addhin calls before the dawn.

light bathes the heart.
pomegranate cheeks blush.
the cat goes walking in the alleys.
morning breaks like the sugar cube
between teeth, soft and sweet,
a rosewater cardamom melt.

slowly all quarters of the city rise.
slowly the women begin to laugh.

 

Anahita Shukla is an Indian-American student. She likes reading, lectures on many things but currently Buddhist art in Afghanistan, and making chai with ginger. She writes on experiences of the diaspora, the subcontinent in general, culture, and family.