Poems from Sadhya Singh
Just how close is the closest you've
been to oblivion? Do you wonder about all
the times death has brushed past you, grazing your
arm...
Pinch my windpipe shut.
If air doesn't go in, sound doesn't come out.
It wouldn't even hurt; since your nails don't owe length and...
If the illusion that I, born with the same number of vertebrae as you were, have somehow grown up to shrink down,half of what is your...