Soumya Venkatesan

Thief


The mind it ran away with my words my thoughts all unsaid
hardly formed not even pictured properly and I ran after it
with a pen a hound sniffing the paper trail chasing down
its scent collecting clues of its grandiose ideas -
the candy wrappers it dropped on its way
like chillar from pockets, but no matter
how fast I wrote, how loud I spoke to
stop its tracks, all I met on the way
was a footprint in sand, a dress
fluttering as it turned the corner,
and jumping over the wall
of a dead end alley,
just the shadow
of what I
could be.

Soumya Venkatesan dabbles in all forms of poetry - from rigorous ghazals to cathartic spoken word, and finds that her ink pen most often scribbles about nostalgia and the human condition. When she is not engaged in doggerel, you will find her in the company of cats, cacti, and knitting needles.

© Terrible Orange Review 2019.