Four poems || Kushal Poddar

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Acrophobic Eagle In Your Conscience

An acrophobic eagle, 
bony winged, sick, 
pursues a piece of plastic 
across the acropolis streets.

The plastic sports a glint.
The shimmers mimic fishscales.
The bird's screech permutates your grey cells.
Perhaps your mistake in
backing the car, killing your aunt's feline,
will appease the eagle's hunger.
Perhaps this - predestined 

The low flight casts corrugated shadow
now here, now nowhere.
Locals call the sea hissing against 
city's boulders& a reservoir of tears.
 
Me Too
 
endured the guilt of measuring
a princess
by the index of the comfort of a pea
 
while believing
a tradition means only a few
hundred years' of practice.
 
I too wore
the skin of a big bad wolf
pretending it is for the months of white
 
while
you, Goddess, bled,
and your red rode down ahead.
 
Hit The Shit
 
“It has been years.”
says the hit-man.
 
I taper my stride
to dredge along the old man spitting his fierce years.
 
A savage moon lights up the dark canopy.
 
A Pair of Bad Wolf Hands
 
You’re a pineapple cunt,
on the Spring break,
and you know it. Own it.
 
A night like this,
so slow,
a little puff, a drag of blow,
and I draw
teeth on my hands before
 
they spread their touch on you.
You always remain
more than one can chew.