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Spadina Literary Review  —  edition 21 page 05

verse

The Hanging Moon

by Baisali Chatterjee Dutt

The moon hangs like a teardrop
from the branches of the tree
outside my window
tonight

There are times
it looks like a fruit —
a pear
yellow
and succulent

at other times
a pendant
an uncut topaz
resting upon night’s breast

But for me
tonight
it is a teardrop