boatloads of photo taking tourists anchor the shorelines beneath a high in the sky kite tied a little lad cladded in pants bellowing baggy in the wind a wee wisp of pee pissed men and animals in corners of buildings bordering craters of incineration so much life living amidst, between death a rare tear found amongst cheers and chanter’s incantations carrying corpses atop bamboo stretchers as pujas and pundits’ strawed hands circle to light the fires doms dispassionately stoke to their rage, collecting, piling, scooping pyre’d ashes to ashes into fenestrated baskets poured the sacred waters of ganga to be washed and cleansed of evils, freeing the dead perpetuities of death and rebirth in their final ascent to eternity they come, lifeless bodies, back logged, arriving fast, too fast, faster than fire burns,
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