OH,
SILENT RAIN
-
Kushal
Poddar (India)
Winter plants rain within
the narrow slivers between
the walls, between the neighbours,
bodies. Is there a real rain?
Does it obliterate and repaint
existence again and again
the way a tired subway rebel
shakes his cans and sprays
same skulls on a past-prime wall?
You do not answer. You are
on the terrace, hanging shadows
for a free wash.
****