Poems by Susmita Paul


Unimaginably long lines coil
at the mirror’s edge
hoping a crossover will be

the man on the cross
hand from the sky

cusping the new-born
born the day her father was killed
blood isn’t a shade deeper
that wipes the mirror still

voice in the desert
saviour , faceless

the trail budges a little
the pain in the back
broken by lathis
still upright


destruction precedes
nurture and creation.


The wait before the rains


as the sun’s rays seep through the skin

uncontrolled lack of bath

births the scent of earth

one more day

one more night

nihilates life.







upends the words

that lie down

after breakfast

one character killed at a time

the sacred wood beckons

listless digits flutter in the wind.


Susmita Paul_photo


Susmita Paul is an emerging writer in English with only a couple of English poems recently published in Montauk. Her sole book of Bengali poetry was published by Kaurab in 2019. She is also a Zentangle inspired artist and mother to a curious five-year old. She lives in Graz, Austria.

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