The sudden silence of the rain
is investigated by a cuckoo in
a cage inside the skull of a house,
neighbourhood. The fallen fruits,
mute feet, giggles, and l
wrap my arms around my
father’s shrouded bike. My left cheek
flattened against the dusty sheet,
my body bared in half, and I wait
for the one who won’t return.
My skin evaporates under the tropical Sun.
The mad cuckoo mocks my mother’s voice.
They call my father’s name as one.
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Words & Picture
Kushal Poddar
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