Dear beloved, I can’t send you my letter.
The new gods deny rivers.
The letter holds my adoration and my despise.
It holds my doves and my knives.
Time flies and flies—
into what, I do not know.
There is a memory of us.
I sealed it.
I intended to send you the seas,
but the new gods deny it.
There will be no new ink for you.
No new love.
You will keep thinking of me
and wonder
whether our separation had a day
or a night.
©Vaishali Paliwal
Moonwater 