The Hungry Poet
A
Anil Kumar Panda
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I watch him closely
And smile at him; he smiles back;
I comb my hair back,
He does so and nods;
We stand on the same floor,
Same distance from the wall;
I can measure his lean body,
It is 154cm as mine.
He weeps when I ask him
How much he earns writing poems;
Drops of tears fall across
His dry chest and vanish in the
Hollow of his belly.
I open a book
He does so;
To read him my poems.
He turns away;
Me too;
Mirrors do not lie.
Bu şiiri puanla
Henüz puan verilmemiş