Pregnant Pandemic

by Kushal Poddar

From the skin taunt in pregnancy
I sniff and snort dreams.
Silence of pandemic
whistles and pisses against
houses by the main street.
Moon duplicates soon.
Only this indicates a level of high.
What's the word for a baby in the womb?
L' aurore. You say.
Fun should be a necessity, I say.
Nothing works as conjunctive between
those statements.
The skin glows in powdered moonlight.
We fall asleep.

Poet biography:
An author and a father, Kushal Poddar edited a magazine – ‘Words Surfacing’, authored seven volumes including ‘The Circus Came To My Island’, ‘A Place For Your Ghost Animals’, ‘Eternity Restoration Project- Selected and New Poems’ and ‘Herding My Thoughts To The Slaughterhouse-A Prequel’.

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