Kushal Poddar writes

Traveling With You

Roads, utility poles, hills,

box houses, cars, people rushing,
all behind the orange bars,
caged in light of spring.

Light on my forehead makes
it look like bleeding.
I feel lightheaded. World spins.

A mad rush in the prison of light,
a gathering near a glimpse of clouds,
and I see you from the corner of my eyes,
your eyelids hide the sharp weapons 
that will kill me soon.

Tick-tock

Later it dawned -
you took the story of your watch
from a movie

where your father
hid it in his asshole
when enemies caught him
sweating in a jungle.

This befits you.
After all you scripted me as well,
only could not control
all the subplots

opening our garden door,
taking me to another city,
buying a cheap watch
that won't weather my tale.

 

 -- Tal Peleg