God’s Left Shoulder 

The clock too expensive to repair 
chimes the wrong time. Once
in a while its notion of the hours
and the minutes meets ours.

I clap hard. The pigeons begin 
to fly and flutter in hall.
The hazy white door opens.
The priest asks me if I need
any service. I say nothing 
with words. One of the birds 
sit on the God’s left shoulder

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Kushal Poddar
Picture Nick Victor

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