Memories of a Flood

For one full week, the sun was dead,
     unloosening the gray,
wild clouds that swamped each paddy bed—
     the plowman’s great dismay.

The regal night sky, once agleam,
     was purloined of its stars.
Each lane became a water stream.
     Dinghies replaced the cars.

Mazdoors¹, waist-hidden, waded to
     their distant factory sites.
The Tongas^’2(since they were a few)
     demand reached greater heights.

But our town did what it does best—
     it kept the hoo-ha going.
In every church and temple's chest,
     hope's candles were still glowing.

On the roadside estaminets,
     sports went with malt whisky,
and there were pleasant tête-á-têtes
     on every balcony.

Shamik Banerjee is a poet from India. He resides in Assam with his parents. His poems have been published by The Society of Classical Poets, Sparks of Calliope, The Hypertexts, Snakeskin, Ink Sweat & Tears, and Autumn Sky Daily, among others.