CHOUDHURI SUKUMAR - Avarice

Never do I call him, yet, at times, the opposite chair is
occupied by Avarice
Lips smacking of gunpowder, Night-tangled hair
like unravelling a favour an astonished bra-peeping
I continue to be seated like a nice perso. And
Avarice begins to congeal itself, becoming violent
The vicinity arouses lolling

They all hail from the same camp. My friends indeed
but not pretentious



___
lov
tr: b sudipta

CHOUDHURI SUKUMAR

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/avarice/