Murder on Bus 39
By Amit Parmessur
A woman dulled by endless sunsets,
too many days spilled from the same cup,
she boards with a sigh, not wonder.
The bus, crowded and creaking, lurches forward.
A Hausa prayer hums from the front,
Pidgin laughter spills from behind,
Yoruba words billow like a forgotten scarf across the aisle.
She sips a zobo drink, red as the evening sky,
her fingers sticky with sugar and timeworn postcards.
Roads twist and tremble, choked with green breath.
A siren screams past—the bus yields and jolts.
Her coins spill, small suns rolling between other lives.
The strangers bend, gentle as priests,
returning what was never lost.
She watches a boy in a Tottenham Hotspur shirt
pretend-flight his hand through dust.
Then, suddenly, an old man behind her
presses a water gun to her temple.
He smiles, and with a flick of his wrist,
fires a stream of cool water onto the roof.
She freezes—then laughs,
startled by the sound of herself.
A droplet slides down her cheek,
not tear, but memory—of cobblestone streets,
of wild plums and a girl once fearless with joy,
of summer markets and lavender stalls,
of moonlight and first love.
She leans back, eyes wide—
and breathes the world back in.
Brave
By Amit Parmessur
The dog belly-crawls across the sunburnt road,
scraping its itch on the tar, scarring the day.
Flies circle, the world rushes on.
A shy girl kneels, her silence heavier than its hunger—
her trembling fingers touch the raw skin.
It flinches—she hushes its whimpers in cloth,
names it Brave.
She whispers a promise, cradles it, and walks
toward a small house that smells of warm bread.
Between cushions and kindness, it begins to bloom.
She watches as it spins in wild circles.
Wind-lifted, it runs—
a kite stitched from laughter.
It flickers in the last light of her childhood,
pain no longer tethered.
A car growls past.
She thinks of the cat by the drainage pipe.
Its eyes, two moons in the storm-water dark.
Tomorrow, she whispers—a name just for you.
Amit Parmessur
Amit Parmessur is a poet and tea addict from Mauritius. His work has recently appeared in Setu, Sweet Tea Dichotomy Magazine, miniMAG and Roi Fainéant Press. Twice nominated for each, the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Web, his writing explores themes like family, nature, memory and culture. He tries to blend the island’s rich landscapes with a modern lens, capturing fleeting moments of life and the emotional landscapes they inhabit. When he is not writing or reading poems, he is solving the age-old mystery of where his socks disappear to—he suspects the washing machine has a secret sock stash.
Apricot Press 
