A Summer Dream Poem by Ajay Sawant

Sparrows with brackish backs
On a hot, hot afternoon hop
stringently in sun pecking grains,
The Lu sweeps the grass to brown,
shadowed partly by fiery Gulmohar;
The gala gates squeak slithering
tar roads.
One hospital white; to next we run
barefooted with a swollen body
The light is harsh, our lips paper cut
yellow-orange fiery fire
The length of Jasmine blooms
is my short daydream
On starry nights like these, my dreams
stand on a thin ice popsicle stick.