You cannot grasp all the shadows
on your neighbour’s wall right across
your powerless house. You know
the shape of your head corrugated
as if you are born with those grills
of your window. The broad ripples
beside that shapes nothing you know.
The flowers, still prenatal and dreaming,
sway in the fields. A dirt way lost itself
into the asphalt road. You hear the pale
lights of a bus halt. You see its horn.
A woman descends and lugs her heavy suitcase.
She casts no shadow. It is not that kind of night.
You stare at the ripples. You might have thought
about a rustling garment cascading from the terrace,
but no one has such a dress here; no one stands
on the edge. Not all shadows make any sense.
.
Kushal Poddar
Picture Nick Victor
Kushal Poddar lives in Kolkata, India
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