REVISION

I waive my living-hood to be
nostril, larynx, pupil, eardrum;

my thumbs I allow
only for receiving

the way a beetle
makes circles on earth,

increasing its orbit
by a brief moment 

until the radius breaks –
clock hand veered from its path.

I must prolong the service
of my witnessing:

the lilies come alive – open –
with the help of dashes,

the police-sirens warn encampments
that will leave, then return,

a banyan tree ages into
roots and reverse, reworking progress.

I want to be
a disciple of the falling leaf.

Arpita is a Creative Writing PhD candidate at University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Arpita has received awards from Bread Loaf Writers’ Conference and Vermont Studio Center. Her work is forthcoming or can be found in Prairie Schooner, Denver Quarterly, The Rumpus, Cream City Review, Thrush, and elsewhere. Arpita is from Kolkata, India.