A CHINESE BOX POEM

 

 

 

 In the well
there’s water, black and still.
At the bottom
 a carpet of oozy muck.
Therein 
insects blind and dumb.
Underneath,
round cobbles, strong and firm,
In the centre
A trapdoor with an iron ring
Below it
a passage slick and dark.
At its end,
a river flowing freely by . 

 

Arunima Choudhury