Mirror House


I awaken wet, salt constellated 
on the bedsheet, shirt, corners
of my stale mouth; my brain blinks
on the dream waning fast – 

I sleep somewhere else and tonight’s bed
lies empty here. I can see them both.
What do you want? I ask the absence.
Exactly. It answers. Whatever it means by that.
My dog snarls from the older billet. 
Moonlight drips from its distorted maws.
Cold emanates from my breathing as if 
this chest keeps the doors of emotion’s icebox ajar.

I drink some water. A mouse scurries afar
peddling a shadow from darkness to darkness.
Through the open window the neighbor’s window 
opens the intimate features of his interior.
Water and sweat, night shouts from a maze
of carnival mirrors, and the left palm of its 
mischievous mate conceals a mea culpa grin.




Kushal Poddar
Picture Nick Victor

Kushal Poddar lives in Kolkata, India

 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

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

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