day ONE THOUSAND and FIFTY FIVE

Mass Burials

My hollow hands unlace my shoes.
I follow those from pinning of the butterfly to
the liberation of its wings.

Now I sit in the twin pools of my shoes
drowning in those. Four walls susurrate.
The neon outside dots together a river.

This way no ways home any longer.
In twin puddles my feet waddle into the deep.
Somewhere down there lie dreams
in their mass burials.

--Kushal Poddar

Short bio-

Authored ‘The Circus Came To My Island’, ‘A Place For Your Ghost Animals, Understanding The Neighborhood’, ‘Scratches Within’, ‘Kleptomaniac's Book of Unoriginal Poems’, ‘Eternity Restoration Project- Selected and New Poems’ and now ‘Herding My Thoughts To The Slaughterhouse-A Prequel’ (Alien Buddha Press)

Author Page - amazon.com/author/kushalpoddar_thepoet

Twitter- https://twitter.com/Kushalpoe