Poetry: My Morning by Pitamber Kaushik

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This poem by Pitamber Kaushik is a part of Kitaab Quarterly Vol 1.

I wipe my plump, swollen morning apple to remove

any traces of oedema fluid that it may have had from Bhopal.

Nothing wakes you up as a cup of bed coffee, especially a dark one

I cradle the cup and feel the weight of infectious diseases.

My toothbrush is made of Alaskan fishbone and feathers

The skew tube spills toothpaste all over it.

I rinse my mouth only to feel virgin sand of the Narmada

My shower sounds with the rain of a distant land.

My ears clog and echo with a tinnitus of the weary

anklets of the village belle, my heartbeat her footsteps

I proceed to prepare my breakfast – Beef and Soy

but the ebony table comes ablaze as a funeral pyre.

and the fire spreads to my garden, till the whole place is on fire

smouldering leaves of paper precipitate as I put on my headphones.

A bird descends to pluck a worm peeking out of the cracked earth.

My morning is a museum of disasters, I sigh.

Author Bio

Pitamber Kaushik is a writer, journalist, educator, poet, and independent researcher based out of Jharkhand, India. His writings have appeared in over 200 publications across 50+ countries. His publications include over 250 articles, 15 poems, several haiku, and seven scholarly papers. His poems have previously appeared in Singapore Unbound, Indian Periodical, and LiveWire, among others. He has been recognized by the Limca Book of Records for his publications. He is a finalist in multiple international haiku poetry contests. He is currently based out of XLRI Jamshedpur. He is an antinatalist.