Talking to Self by Kushal Poddar

Published by

j re crivello

on

Madness grabs my collar,

shakes out my rage, shame, memories,

and their wrinkled balls fill out

the blank spaces in the housing.

Blessed be forgiveness!

I remember all my sins.

«Oh, shut up!» Screams my next door

aged woman. I realise that

aloneness too is a memory.

I say, «Hi, Mrs. Ray.» She answers,

«The war has laid an egg.

If you like we can have an omelette.

Let me know all your secrets.»

I am already gone, hidden behind

confusion and silence.