THIS EMPTY BOWL
Evening is a vague unrest
a fevered body of rose
and blue embrace struggling
to still the sun that slips,
slit and steeping into the deep
opiate of sea until the whole
of earth and sky is sunk
phosphorescence
reeling on my tongue
and suddenly, nothing’s left
but this empty bowl, these dregs
of spinning stars drunk
in night’s cup…
© 2009 Sophia Pandeya
