Ageing Sunset Phlegm

 

Breathlessness checks in
a little after three,
signs my lungs’ guestbook.
Its scrawl clog the log.

The corridor awash with ageing
sunset phlegm smells like
expired cough syrup.
Someone whispers – Elvis is dead –
probably from another decade.

The hotel’s edifice slow-sinks in
what my friend Nick would nickname
the seabed of pins.

I usher a gust of pain downstairs.
Life’s luggage bends me down.
I recall a few tales from ancient age,
think of the rolling stones.

 

 

 

 

 

Kushal Poddar lives in Kolkata, India
Picture Nick Victor

@amazon.com/author/kushalpoddar_thepoet
 Author Facebook- https://www.facebook.com/KushalTheWriter/ 
Twitter- https://twitter.com/Kushalpoe


This entry was posted on in homepage and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.