Honour and Death

The photograph states, “It was
an honour to die for you.” 
Honour dies one or more gens later.

We sell the bricks, sell the mortar.
The new house, half-pint, 
devides us into apartments,
and in each cell we multiply.

Who did keep the medal, photo frame,
the rolled certificate and those clothes?
They stay and decay somewhere, rust 
but not enough to be obliterated.



Kushal Poddar
 Nick Victor




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