My brother buys a gun with a barrel to remain arctic for long
and a sawed-off-head guitar.
He, when drunk, sometimes forgets which one to load
with the leads and which one to strum following the lead.
Every night we shall pass his door displaying Keep-out to earwig
him breathing, his inhalation having an argument with
his exhalation, his balloons inside dandling the riddles of life.
His impromptu gunshots rehearse for a gig at some wilderness of crowd.
His guitar bangs its way into a trouble with our neighbors.
Together we stare at one bloody rabbit shell out in the moon
momentarily revealed through the tattered smog.
Two whiskey and tap water rock our guts. A guitar and a gun sitting in the porch.
Oh rabbit, run.
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