Sideways a family sprouted

                     into the next house and next

Sparrows, children leap

                     the inches between

                     when monsoon floods the gap

Every liter of water in the world is a nomad

Dead aunt visits living,

                     two rogue spirits chortling

at this intimate border—

                     a riverbank’s bared roots

Tin kitchens cantilever

                     over saffron water

whorling against current, against light—

light like chicken feet

                     scampering

                     white across the river’s skin

Once, without papers,

                     I boarded here

 

                                                                                       a boat

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