I feel all the frailty of a father.
My arms hold her and although
she has outgrown the periphery
of my embrace I rock her body
while her mind rub and rub the dream.
Our house has thirteen windows.
The single broken one fails
the good panes. The curtains quiver.
One dead moth drops from the fold
of the polyesters. The car that brings
light crawls round the corner.
.
Kushal Poddar
Word & Picture
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Kushal Poddar lives in Kolkata, India
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