Learning to be no body

Trying to climb a small elevation  to a rock, we bit the dust and scraped our palms.Before dawn we tried searching the fakir with a head cloth but the book of faces yielded none.

We then read a poet aunt’s  nobody poem about a frog who tried to be somebody in a bog. We are in our bogs of blogs , trying to be somebodies till we are no bodies.

Aunts and nephews will be no bodies . All of monsoon we will croak from  bogs and  our blogs will dry up the first of summer.


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