From the firmament, imagine,
the steeple looks like a ship
ready to leave the planet decaying.
You joke, "It is the tip of your confession."
My sins laugh aloud. We have buried
silence beneath the bits of the bottles
thrown away. No one steps downhill.
People, even the temple, use it as a bin.
One night the edifice disappears.
The fright tightens its grip.
Is the end nearing? Now that the land
lies vacant will the words hushed
and flesh rotten surface?
Kushal Poddar, 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