I don't even know what I was trying to do with the enjambment here. This is from senior year of high school. Eventually I used imagery from this poem to write a story (The Sacrifice) so some of it might sound familiar.
A thousand ways into Bengal, but not one way out.
-Bangladeshi/British proverb
the aroma of banana leaves on
wet roads a lone rickshaw braves
the breeze prickling humidity against
my skin awaits the gray monsoon
beneath clouds that break into aquamarine
palm trees hear the muezzin’s call to prayer
mats of jute and straw and wind
sprays hummingbirds in the lily
pads course through on gondolas
carry jackfruit into the harbors feel
the simple strength of life in sky
breathes love into the river-air.
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