The walls scurry away, make room
for the shadow of the man who bids
goodbye and stares at the smart screen
corroding away into its own limits.
Loneliness is the single word
that he remembers from the chat he
finished seconds ago. The medicines
look miniscule in those day and time
slotted compartments. The medicines
feel enormous when he ingests them.
Loneliness speaks at its loudest now.
It will loose its voice soon. It will become
a quiet and tight fisted room. It will
disappear when he will look at
the looking glass and shave the old way
as if he is dressing up for a departed friend.
What is his name now? Most names
are an event, a phrase, an hourglass
waiting with an empty chest.
Second Coming
He crawls toward the silhouette of the child.
He will reach him, become
him.
He crawls
with the willpower of the one who doesn’t know
how to stroll. When he will reach him he will fly.
.
Kushal Poddar
Picture Nick Victor
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