DPF / Chakraborty

For caves at the bottom of lakes and grief as large as mountains, from Poetry, April 2017.

from Dear, Beloved / by Sumita Chakraborty

It would be winter, with a thin snow. An aged sunbeam
would fall on me, then on a nearby summit, until a mass
of ice would come upon me like a crown of master diamonds
in shades of gold and pink.

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