Srinagar II
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When a goat herder
threw a sizeable stone bludgeon
at one of the dogs that accompanied us
down the mountain when we came,
I almost fainted at the thought of impact.
The poor beast.
When thunder rumbled and
a flash of lightning lit the underside of the sky—
a tent of cumulus, index finger-thumb propped
by the Great Unmeaning—
I’d be lying
if I didn’t admit that some part of me
was expecting it to be a bomb.
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