The dusky river moves with a fading effort,
below rattling iron wheels, swift over a stretch,
that measures inches of pungent width
compiled under ‘facts and figures’ of geography.
The waves, dead with black suffocation,
splash thick nausea, skeletons at times, and shit,
at violet shirts outside urban shacks,
drying along the marsh of metro-ed Yamuna Bank.
Destined intervals of days do not increase
Wordsworth’s romance for this stinking froth.
Water lives a human life with algaecide shafts;
admirers fill angry columns of serious dailies.
Some clever trains whistle past a history,
taking refugees of civilization to homely states.
~Yamuna Bank- An area beside the bank of River Yamuna. Now, a Delhi Metro station.
Mihir Vatsa’s poems and writings have appeared in Muse India, The Enchanting Verses Literary Review and Youth ki Awaaz: Mouthpiece for the Youth. He is the Founder and Administrator of Tales of Hazaribagh- an online web portal dedicated to work for creating awareness about the prospects of a healthy tourism in the Hazaribagh region, India. He studies English Literature in the Delhi University, and currently lives in New Delhi