Summer airplanes faint in their high
traverse the roof.
Lilo stoops to dust her emergency bag
always cleaned and packed up.
On the newspaper, over the circled obituaries
sits the cat with all the oscitancy garnered
in its brief and long life.
Waning Welcome On The Doormat
I hear you, Pink, shuffling
conchs and sand in your crate of dream.
my dinghy shifts in the sea;
from the blue deep I meet eye to eye
with our dormancy.
On the doormat ‘Welcome’ wanes.
In the crate of reverie we two fetuses
place the abandoned mollusks;
the dinghy left lone mid-sea
heaves to the dins of dim wave after wave.
Tradition of Fire
A fire compels to see us the fire,
the blaze itself in-itself and its roar for-itself,
and later when we see saffron or red
we retch in its smoky bane;
in our heads the image examines the image –
the beast aflame traversing the terrains,
wilderness blanking out, our farm, chalets,
and the body of the beast being an emblem of its flesh
whose nothing but what escape it makes is left;
the escape is nothing but a drowning in the rage.
What else do you desire, fire?
An exposé of who leaves whom saving his own hind?
The slithering hold of the pipe
signals corrosion, and below,
beneath my swaying feet dogs
bark out a circle,
or perhaps, not tetards, sharks
surround me as my grip
gradually slips from my land's end.
Those teeth speak in my mother tongue
about id, matchboxes, serpents, Freud.
I shriek - "You all living above me,
head towards the same jeopardy."
When the authority empties the hamlet
villagers know better than to ask any question,
and yet the grim theorists conceive mushroom clouds
in their future azure, own, personal skies.
Although our child searches for her cat
we leave without the creature to the tears
of the innocence, to the end of the familiar.
Shivering visits our daughter tonight.
Her thoughts rock the pebbles in her mind.
The grim sayers hear a blast beyond hearing.
All we think about is the feline.
If still alive it must have been evolving
into one who appears everywhere and nowhere at once.
Kushal Poddar: "I Authored The Circus Came To My Island (Spare Change Press, Ohio), A Place For Your Ghost Animals (Ripple Effect Publishing, Colorado Springs), Understanding The Neighborhood (BRP, Australia), Scratches Within (Barbara Maat, Florida), Kleptomaniac's Book of Unoriginal Poems (BRP, Australia), Eternity Restoration Project- Selected and New Poems (Hawakal Publishers, India) and now Herding My Thoughts To The Slaughterhouse-A Prequel (Alien Buddha Press)."