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“Hibernation Comfort" & “Fields Where We Belong” by Kushal Poddar



Hibernation Comfort


No one possesses this road this early.

The juxtaposition of ebony tar and light,

and the uneven patches where monsoon

dug its heels in welcome me as I lodge my claims.


In ten minutes I exhaust my energy to jog.

My shadow hibernates beside a boulder.

I have no power over this life I adore

because of these elongated winters,

caves of sleep, leaves of crackling, goodbyes

unfinished.



Fields Where We Belong


Fields turn brief beneath our running feet,

and the bridge, squares of formless green,

trees sketched by me when I was six.


If you ask me why we run we cannot tell.

There is a feeling. A trace of an urge.

Noon showers upon us, warm piss.

A hiss says that our ankles will be

dotted with fang-marks. We can comprehend

the serpent. Time winters here. We should not race.




An author, journalist, and father, Kushal Poddar, editor of 'Words Surfacing’, authored eight books, the latest being 'Postmarked Quarantine'. His works have been translated into eleven languages.

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