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

Stands erect

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

Amanda Graham

Amanda Graham

Editor at NY Literary Magazine
Amanda holds an M.A. in History. She loves well-written poetry and romance novels. Amanda has 2 cats and a 3-year-old son.
Amanda Graham

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