Near Twelve O’clock

The girl repeats her name.
“Call me a whore.”
Do not forget the ‘a’.

The man’s arms bent at the elbows
seesaw. The girl’s arm, the wrong one,
sways parallel to the line of floor.

No reason, and yet
the man recalls, the dog his family
desired to lose always returned,
and that beyond the impossibility
there used to be one fence-gate
even a child could penetrate.





Kushal Poddar
Picture Nick Victor

Kushal Poddar lives in Kolkata, India
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