Ramesh Dohan

Night at the Museum						

Did it first, making his paintings
Out of verses from the bible

In another, a nymph
The arms and legs splayed as if
possessed by a lustful god 

The sumptuous reclining nudes
Always hopeful for something new

The heads and shoulders of gods
Cheer the crushing of a serpent

This is what poems do
They call out everything
By a name


My hand, the old style
Adept at poetry
How the palm and mouth
Rock back and forth
Talent has a look
And conducts herself accordingly
The face it takes 
a minute to know, is yours
it heaves me out of a straight line
a story I was maybe narrating

A Winter’s tale

Beyond the thick curtains
The snowflakes are
Starting to fall
Each one determined
To bury something
I pay a visit
To an iron typewriter
That has not lifted
A key in years
Perhaps there is 
A word in the dictionary
To describe this day

Ramesh Dohan hails from Toronto, Canada. His poetry often slips into quirky, tender, or profound observation on the everyday, reading and writing, and poetry itself. He was previously published in Boston Literary Magazine (2011), Bywords Journal (2012), Allegro Poetry Review (2015) & Bosphorous Review of Books (2021).

Flights. Issue One, June 2021