It comes. It writhes so
I do not let it go.
I dream in terms of palmiers.
Granulated sugar. Pastry sheets.
In the morning my room teems with
pale brown and gold butterflies as if
in the wind’s oven time’s baked
to the perfection. It has
nothing to do with my stress. I say.
Not seeing things. I’m okay.
Do not believe in the news.
Do not discuss with your friends.
Until you know you do not.
Quarantined, my father begins
bleaching his bedroom from the roof
to the floor, corner to corner,
figment to figment. Some fragments
lacerate his feet. He bleeds, and panicked,
wipes the bloody footprints
until the unpigmented being, reinstated,
shrouds what he perceives as pristine.
Quarantined, I read about Einstein’s Twins Paradox.
When I’ll meet my father he’ll be almost my age.
A little younger may be.
Do not believe in what others say
until time leaves a shade and you bear it.
Postmarked, ‘Plague’The postman used to ring twice.
Come monsoon he compensates
with silence. There he goes leaving
my books in their thin plastic packaging
on my porch by the waning cactus and wounded bird
of an obscure origin. The beige raincoat
the postman wears disappears from my window frame.
The books bathe. They dream of being dissolved
into a constellation of Rorschach inkblots
and into my interpretations without reading them.
Silence rings my doorbell. It is quiet and quite ineffable.
Kushal Poddar @Kushalpoe is a writer and visual artist and is the author of ‘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 now ‘Herding My Thoughts To The Slaughterhouse-A Prequel’ (Alien Buddha Press). Author Page – amazon.com/author/kushalpoddar_thepoet
Banner and Image: Black & White and in Colour by Kushal Poddar.