On Thursday asleep,
as I feel being, in the humid
afternoon, while waiting
for what we all wait for since
we begin this form of ours, this life,
and on this twenty-seventh day
since the neighborhood rape
and murder, fourteen hours since
the latest classroom shooting
in the US of A, sixty seconds
after the last bomb blasted
in the kingdom of the ruined things
I realise what we want -
the clarity of tiny viles, sorted
from the most white to the darkest
black on a shelf to study.
An eagle, sick, almost extinct,
circles to highlight its shriek
above my house, our houses,
and we wake up, feel
the pressure to urinate as one.
--
Although Kushal Poddar has authored ten books, the latest being 'A White Can For The Blind Lane', and his works have been translated into twelve languages, and he has been a sub-editor of Outlook magazine and the editor of Words Surfacing, and he does some illustrations and sketches for various magazines if you ask him, he will say that he gardens a growing up daughter.