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Yellow tigers crouched in jungles in her dark eyes. by Sukhwinder Flora
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Yellow tigers crouched in jungles in her dark eyes. by 


Drawing of my eyes.
on Twitter

White room by Cream

In the white room with black curtains near the station.
Blackroof country, no gold pavements, tired starlings.
Silver horses ran down moonbeams in your dark eyes.
Dawnlight smiles on you leaving, my contentment.
I’ll wait in this place where the sun never shines

Wait in this place where the shadows run from themselves.

You said no strings could secure you at the station.
Platform ticket, restless diesels, goodbye windows.
I walked into such a sad time at the station.
As I walked out, felt my own need just beginning.
I’ll wait in the queue when the trains come back

Lie with you where the shadows run from themselves.
At the party she was kindness in the hard crowd.
Consolation for the old wound now forgotten.
Yellow tigers crouched in jungles in her dark eyes.
She’s just dressing, goodbye windows, tired starlings.
I’ll sleep in this place with the lonely crowd;

Lie in the dark where the shadows run from themselves.

Sukhwinder Flora’s poetry feature, “Carried in the Wind” exposes realms of existence trapped between the past and present. In the spirit of an urban legend storyteller, Flora writes with discernment and wisdom beyond her years. Her Poetry has the authority of urban legends that have been carried on the wind for centuries.

Jennifer DeBellis
Executive Editor
Pink Panther Magazine Issue 21, 2014

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