Incognito
Photo: Karan Madhok
‘I've been sleeping on the soggy cardboard on the used side of your lips’
Three pigeons on the window sill. Her bouncing breasts as she goes on her evening walk. A homeless kite. The ant on her zillion-step pilgrimage up the plastered wall. I've been sleeping on the soggy cardboard on the used side of your lips. The ashen breast of mother crow. Her wing spread out like Jesus's arms over Rio de Janeiro. I look at you like the gawking dish tv antenna. Clouds slipping into white zen. My last seven years are plastered shut in the drainage pipe elbow on the southwest wall of your building. Our escapades smell of camphor. A fakir looks up as thousands of parrots break into spontaneous namaz catalogued in the peepal tree. The mynah wipes her beak on the pipeline. A drunk palm tree swoons on your love sherbet. My shirts have collapsed like soldiers in the hallway. Everything contrived is ill. Don’t we know that yet we try? Did kismet deliberately want us to not work out? Only dreamless sleep is free of cruelty. Am I a dim-witted punter? Punting away against the odds.
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Akash Sinha is a Kolkata-based poet and freelance advertising professional who collects experiences. He loves Zen Buddhism and alternative rock. He loves broken people and torn socks. Featured on multiple literary blogs he is passionate about consciousnesses research, mental health and non-duality. His first collection of the book, Labor Pains of a Balding Man (Authorspress) was published in 2018.
