Samyak Shertok

This story of the Gurkhas—the new republic—we shall rewrite with ash. They burned the letters, Love. Above your signature, write: With Ash.Marigolds cut. The moon full on the window. The phone rings:We know where you live. A boy’s voice polite with ash.Enter a needle, exit a plowshare: the priests have gutted the temples.How could we, …

We tie our sisters’ red ribbons around our heads and wear the garlands of the spent cartridges as ammo. On our shoulders, we carry the rhododendron branches as rifles fitted with letter openers for bayonets. Some bring rotten potatoes to hurl as hand grenades. Because the forest is booby-trapped, we play at school. All the …