Poems 24 & 25 from Hiraeth Series by Kushal Poddar
24 The freight train of the tree leaves hit the station Autumn. This afternoon I desire to play daggas. Between the beats I lift my eyes and see the leaves gather around over the hair losing yard and over the arthritic mower and covering the pigeons irritated by the doves sheathed in leaves and into the space - sacred and worshipped in my weekend conversation with my father over the telephone. I pick up the rhythm so that the vaccum shrinks to accommodate the fall. My landlord's ghost eldest son whistles at his motorbike, and it shakes off the leaves and the dust and the leaves and the dust and the death in this exact order. 25 Perhaps the boy suddenly remembers to feed its solitary horse and begins to walk with the haylage. There is no horse in the town. I hear his footsteps and the beast's neigh. Evening wraps up its business. The pearls of the windows metamorphose pain into some magic lanterns of the hope. The horse's shadow wins the bet of loneliness wagered between it, the horse and the boy I hear the boots and the hooves and measure yards and time with those and then I forget the units and the numbers and the truths of my calculations. Oh, nothing should happen to the boy or to the horse in the pit of darkness. Wolfpack Contributor: Kushal Poddar Hiraeth Series poems 21-23 from Kushal Poddar Hiraeth Series by Kushal Poddar (poems 13-20)*updated 9/13 Poems 8-12 from “Hiraeth Series” by Kushal Poddar A Poetry Series by Kushal Poddar “Hiraeth Series”
Fevers of the Mind 
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