Henna-Fish
confluent as the lines of your hands once
were, clenched tightly as you struggled
against the itch the urge to open
your palms to the skies and catch
the next rain of thought henna-fish
will be lost and never found
again on these tracks there must
be borders or else chaos ruins
the filigree she warned squeezing
drops of clove tea over the drying
islands I told her I was writing
a labyrinth without maps she said
everything is a thread that unravels
© 2011 Sophia Pandeya from the poem series Water, Memory
