The Killing Zone by Kushal Poddar

By order every book
begins to keep at least
one bullet within.

And the tired cleaner
sits on the floor only
half clean, still rolling
in gory details

of a tale I shouldn’t tell
but I must. You see,
they will come to school
again, to university.

The janitor is tired.
His mop is bloody.
Outside on the hem
of silence blooms spring’s
first forsythia.

A piece of scattered brain-
matter feeds its roots.
From one pole a chrome tape
flutters in the wind.

10 thoughts on “The Killing Zone by Kushal Poddar

  1. Pingback: The Killing Zone by Kushal Poddar | Phibby Venable

  2. Pingback: The Killing Zone by Kushal Poddar | poetry from the frontera

  3. Very impressive piece, my friend Kushal. Your stark simplicity is bone-chilling. I love the metaphor “hem of silence.” We’re all tired, aren’t we?

    Liked by 3 people

  4. Pingback: The Killing Zone by Kushal Poddar | kushalpoddar's Blog

  5. So sad… but yes even those gory must be told…by someone. Silence will accomplish nothing and can often be interpreted as consent and approval or agreement with what is happening.
    Speaking out…writing it out tells others NO.. I do not consent or approve…not at all!

    Liked by 1 person

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