Tag: poem

  • Prognosis by Nishtha Trivedi

    Plunged already too deep into the end times, he’s still a  romantic. He brought home a peace lily that yields ardently to overwatering. I wait for it to flower, waiting beats the spiral.  Grasshoppers predate grass and still haven’t achieved complete metamorphosis, so  no, I don’t believe the man who achieved enlightenment after cleaning up…