Bibhu Padhi

Wild Goose Poetry Review, No 33, Fall 2017


There is a garden in my house
made of dry twigs and young branches,
smelling of pigeon wings
and nesting birds.
Each morning and evening
we put it to shape so that
it may grow in size
to take the whole house in.
Dreams of rest and flight
allude to it, the spring rain
participates in its growth, sends
more and more birds into it.
I think of a time when
I might not have to go out of
the house at all, in search of warmth
and open fields and other greens.
The birds seem satisfied even now,
unaware of my different dream,
snug and warm in their own company,
dreaming of flying out of their home.
They do and I wish other birds would come
and start from where the nearer ones left—
dry, dropping twigs and young branches
that still smell of their long-past wings.
This unfinished garden in me.


Bio: Bibhu Padhi has published eleven books of poetry. His poems have appeared in distinguished magazines throughout the English-speaking world, such as Encounter, The Contemporary Review, The Poetry Review, Stand, The Rialto, The American Scholar, Chest, Colorado Review, Confrontation, Poet Lore, Poetry (Chicago), The Southwest Review, TriQuarterly, The Antigonish Review, The Toronto Review, Queen’s Quarterly, The Bombay Review, The Illustrated Weekly of India, and Indian Literature.

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