And I realised: / even in the line to hell, / waiting for punishment, / we'd still reach for chanachur. / We'd still find comfort / in the crunch of survival

It would rain in the rains / And the rest of this poem would be written by someone else

There’s a purgatorial break between these stretches …flaxen against the lights

I am not a single name. Not a single wound.

Grey chips of rough cement  Rust rubble all around,

This was the way it ended: not with fire, But carried quietly under sleep-beds,

I cannot tell you that I want to be intoxicated, inebriated, and stashed away for the rest of eternity while holding your hand at the mediocre fair in the middle of the crowd of ill-mannered school-children who grew up too soon

It said, 'You've brought a return ticket with you friend / Remember, people are not meant to be held onto.'

The mind craves to fly far away. / In the guise of a beggar, eyes wet with tears

The moon is a cheeseball,  Cratered, yellow, and huge like your eyeballs 

Moving mindlessly and / Etching every alley along the way / With verses devoted to you

You thought you had escaped, didn't you? / Outran everything that weighed you down

A quiet, seniority in its touch, / A tenderness that feels like it's meant to last

Li’l Del is walking all alone Li’l Del wants to find her way home.

Sometimes at early dawn / You overpower my eyelids / And won’t let me wake up

We'll put up feigned politicians / And their fake promises instead

Tell me about this life you live behind the curtain…

What matters when there's a Motherland to defend? 

face to face, 20 taka in my pocket and this keyless map do you think love ever ends?

Pebbles strewn pavement Keep drawing me back