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The day I name the way a maze it begins to own a bit of me, and I lay my claim on a patch of its length that circles an overgrown shrub, the time-eaten wall and a shameless body of muddy water. At one point I feel the desire to leave the maze drying, dying. From hollow in my abdomen an eclipse of moths swirl out. The sun relents; crickets croon some troubled Sinéad. On a rock I sit. Again I walk, stumble upon a upturned perambulator. Shadows ebb and tide once more. I recall the time my body used to grow and the point it stopped. Kushal Poddar is the 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- https://twitter.com/Kushalpoe Comments are closed.
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