Image by arturo suazo from Pixabay


In my primitive camera
rain remains an almost-escapee.
The nextdoor roof, box of an attic 
my neighbor built to store his son
(although he flew from its July parapet)
or the street slimy around
my pane – all come in the frame.

I never zoom in on a photograph.
Have you named this phobia?
I know in this neighborhood
a wiped memory means 
more days to sit near the rain,
enjoy the house-silence midst all the chaos.
Have you named this philia?

I never zoom in on a photograph.
I don’t know where and when
of your daughter’s disappearance.

Kushal Poddar: Edited the online magazine Words Surfacing. Authored The Circus Came To My Island (Spare Change Press, Ohio), A Place For Your Ghost Animals (Ripple Effect Publishing, Colorado Springs), Understanding The Neighborhood (BRP, Australia), Scratches Within (Barbara Maat, Florida), Kleptomaniac’s Book of Unoriginal Poems (BRP, Australia) and Eternity Restoration Project- Selected and New Poems (Hawakal Publishers, India) and now Herding My Thoughts To The Slaughterhouse-A Prequel (Alien Buddha Press)



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