In warming East the half light floats up.
In light darkness I carry the heft of my
father’s termite ridden chair.
I aim to leave it at the far end of the lane.
My hands quiver as if not as if, in certainty,
I feel the heat of the shame. Perchance
my mind imagines our neighbours’ judging
eyes. I walk to abandone my father’s
favourite furniture. In the blue the starlings’
overture weaves a mellow tragedy .
Before dropping the chair I turn. The house
can be seen on the other side of the empty lane.
It looks forsaken, and I feel being crowded
with whispering.
BIO:
Kushal Poddar
The author of ‘Postmarked Quarantine’ and ‘How To Burn Memories Using a Pocket Torch’ has ten books to his credit. He is a journalist, father of a four-year-old, illustrator, and an editor. His works have been translated into thirteen languages and published across the globe.

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