Tastes like life
A drop of gold on your tongue; roll it;
savor the flavor; this is what we
are made of…the taste of the moments.
The bar, the ignored non smoking sign
and the machine’s conditioned humming
watch the slow motion of a moment
from the yesterday’s game, recorded.
A coin for the four years old, living
on the street and the day’s good deed is
accomplished. Now you can smirk; enter
in a dark hole; emit your passion
and drag the unfaithful discontent
home; raise a storm; leave a dense blood pool.
Then the gale subsides; your woman walks
in the daughter’s room. The small lips taste
like distant memories; like life she had.
=© 2009-Copyright reserved Kushal Poddar (reprinting is absolutely prohibited, without permission)
Neutrality of the poison
I can feel it growing. The desperate bite
makes the mirror blue. In mirror sides change;
which side the fatality may take? I feel
the birds are leaving my garden; liquid night
deepens, darkens; music ends at my neighbor’s.
TV, perhaps. There dead man can revisit
in the next episode if contract remains
and producer is pleased. Pleasure has its ways
indeed. I can feel it growing. Pleasure and pain.
I cough more blue. Mirror, mirror; what’s your hue?
Poison takes no side. Thus I corrode my life.
© 2009-Copyright reserved Kushal Poddar (reprinting is absolutely prohibited, without permission)