The half-tears eavesdrop down the cornice
Half filled gin,
And on the rocks, half resolved Calcutta, John Coltrane
The colossally bare tree against the smeared blues
Making love to my favourite things.
Fixing the bun, sweaty arms
The smooth neck that went in, and in
a thousand desires died at the sky: the ground missed a beat.
My thoughts curled up looks like red, or blue
Or the colour
That the sky breathes.
The world is not enough. You and I
Stand against an echo that hides
Half a nausea
And coughs up affection.
(c) Copyright 2016 Koushik Sen