My cack-handedness regarding
the world, taxes, camps and Kings
I writhe to hide since I met you
and I captain our dinghy through
the capsized lot of our kith and kin.
You catch me funny side up
at the dawn of our relationship,
shelter me from the fact of your discovery.
I find out that you do, forget,
pretend to find out, cease to pretend,
gybe ourselves, sail
from vortex to taxes, icebergs to incoming blood.
Sometimes you say, ‘Look at the bird
against our pane. Isn’t it the same
we scuded last week to find the high?
Kushal Poddar
Illustration Nick Victor