Debarun Sarkar


when stories of crocodile did not belong in the zoo library

under moonlight
load shedding was routine

before dinner on the front yard porch
grandmother laid out a cot
and grandfather told stories

under the moonlight my mother
would narrate her greatest childhood mysteries
she would inquire grandfather every night
when it rains why doesn’t the whole sky fall?
who is singing inside a radio?

grandfather’s narrative irrevocably
moved and navigated
to his years of navigation across the borders
when border security existed only on paper

on the boats and near the house
crocodiles haunted the silence of the night

with men who came out of their mouths alive
and men who killed them in the slush

riding the boat away to sell merchandise
hoping for the storm to not strike




Debarun Sarkar currently lives in Calcutta and spends most of his time juggling between freelancing and writing. Recent works have appeared in or are forthcoming in 1:1000, Visual Verse, Former People, Burningword, The Los Angeles Review of Los Angeles, Your One Phone Call, In Between Hangovers, the murmur house, among others.


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