Author Arun Kolatkar A checkerboard pattern some old men must have drawn yesterday with a piece of chalk on the back of the twenty foot tortoise smudges under the bare feet and gets fainter all the time as the children run. Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments