The Kites And The Ground


From the tip of the turret our kite

sends a desparate message.

The string, invisible, vines up

and coils the stones and the concrete.


We can still roam naked –

two comrades in penury

co-sharer of the kite that has

left us for the great height.


We visit the ground everyday.

The kite thins out from existence,

and then, on the day following,

we fly another kite, red and white.


“This fella can win a competition.”

You say. We can win a medal

as long as we dream.


In this reverie we wear

one pair of jeans on the podium,

sharing its legs. Our other legs

know the wind and

the ways of the ground.






Kushal Poddar
Ilustration Nick Victor

Kushal Poddar lives in Kolkata, India
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