A tire bursts, the gully holds
the edge of its last brick
and watches. The road hardens
it flesh. The wind rushes,
and goosebumps, the trees feel.
Even a loud hush can trigger a riot.
They removed the remains, took
her away, and what remains
moans aloud, out of the hearing’s reach,
writhes and then settles down until
that tire bursts. It stands at the crossroads
with a candlestick and a dynamite.
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Kushal Poddar
Picture Nick Victor
Kushal Poddar lives in Kolkata, India
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Author Facebook- https://www.facebook.com/KushalTheWriter/
Twitter- https://twitter.com/Kushalpoe
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