The day I name the way
it begins to own a bit of me,
and I lay
my claim on a patch of its length
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
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
Shadows ebb and tide once more.
I recall the time
my body used to grow and the point
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.