Kushal Poddar is the author of
'Postmarked Quarantine' has eight books to his credit. He is a journalist,
father, and the editor of 'Words Surfacing’. His works have been translated
into twelve languages, published across the globe.
Twitter- https://twitter.com/Kushalpoe
Out
Of Within
Death
tells my father,
"This
is the day of freedom
from
any specific shape."
My
father desires to be
my
mother's favourite flower,
but
he cannot remember which one.
"Freedom
from memories too."
Death
says.
Autumn
Camping
Everyone
has those travel bags.
The
doors of the car open near the river.
A
bow boat plays a long lone note
on
the chordophone water.
Silence
summons Autumn.
An
invisible slayer sheds the leaves one by one.
Because
you hide the smoking habit
you
have been quitting since your wedding
when
she calls from the resort balcony
you
begin a wildfire. Soon the evidence of fall
all
will go, leaves and land, devil's bridge and
the
stones, even the sun. The stars rise;
in
the black sky they are the cold bones.
We
Have That Walk
Once
the walk is over
I
have to be somewhere.
I
need not tell her that.
The
clouds circle the dead
fountain
and three gardeners
hovering
over one cellphone.
No
crow sits on the towers.
They
learn how not to shatter existence
in
order to watch what lies below.
We
can converse about our kin
or
exchange our childhoods
while
soaking in the rain.
A
deflated cardboard box tries
to
remember what it had within.
I
have to be somewhere.
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