A Late Night Poem About Morning Instead of pasting Goodmorning! on your lips and ripping out mine at the first urge to breathe we discover sending pics. You send a photo of a strand of my white on the black pillow case. A white cane for a blind lane and for the piers dark with wetness, water rippling, a few river gulls, all tide in my mind. Sun walks in my head, and its sweat beads explode, startle our alley cat, pregnant and sad as if it already knows the fate of its kittens. In a Landscape of Red, White and Grey The red balloon moon keeps the boat afloat. Snow steps into the slate. Dream hands over its mutinous pamphlets to the flesh and drags its cold gnawed feet towards the ferry. Now a wind will chase the shine. Now I'll wake up with a mouthful of slogans and "Bella Ciao" stuck in my glottis. Thirteen Dogs' Piss Mark This Block The dayspring birds surround silence, now almost blind, now bewildered and looking for the home all go in the end to begin again. The street lights still burn. The early tramlines connect the horizon with the broad mouth of the junction. One mad man seeks for the moon beams last seen electric on these long metals. From his left hand hangs a brown teddy wrapped in a thin plastic. The locality is demarcated by thirteen dogs' piss. They ask him who he is, and that he doesn't know.
Kushal Poddar ‘The Circus Came To My Island’, ‘A Place For Your Ghost Animals’, ‘Understanding The Neighborhood’, ‘Scratches Within’, ‘Kleptomaniac’s Book of Unoriginal Poems’, ‘Eternity Restoration Project- Selected and New Poems‘ and ‘Herding My Thoughts To The Slaughterhouse-A Prequel’. Find and follow him https://www.amazon.com/Kushal-Poddar 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