Early morning, a father
carries the screaming silence
on his shoulders, the first day
of the prep-school.
He crosses the tramline.
He buys some sweet breads.
He releases his first born
at the school gate.
Ants usher in the continuity of rain.
On the roadside benches
mushrooms sprawl their
brief black-teal lives.
We weather, grow, learn
at the universe’s university,
fit in the present that doesn’t exist.
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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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