Water, Guilt, Hemisphere
You come in like water.
I hear the ghost note, x, pp,
turn to see you eerie
in the half and half
of the refrigerator light and my shadow.
I don’t need another guilt trip,
stumble upon a photo album,
lose myself in a village road
or flower sneezing. I tell you so.
You evaporate.
The light puddle on the floor
clot into darkness.
Kushal Poddar is author of Postmarked Quarantine; has eight books to his credit. He is a journalist, father, and the editor of Words Surfacing. His works have been translated into twelve languages, published across the globe. Twitter-Kushalpoe