A January Afternoon

By Shruti Shah

standing amidst

polished cars,

I couldn’t help but think

how the lavender flower

that I left ungreeted

smelled.

trying to sniff flowers

all I inhaled

was

the smell of the person

whose palms

holding that off-white proletariat washcloth

rubbed the dirt

of the unpolished car

that was not his.

‘ What a beautiful world! ‘

I was thinking

as I let the lavender

stain my frozen white palm

on a January afternoon.

By Shruti Shah