Once again,

In my poetry,

I am going to lapse

Into my customary



First, I’ll just throw words

Like popcorn on a stove,

& they’ll expand & burst

From the kernels,

& puff up

On your face.

I’ll force you to chew

The crunchy frivolity,

& even gnaw on the cob.


There’s a voice in my head—

Brittle like unpopped kernels—

That’ll soon explode into

Butterfly or mushroom flakes.

Soft, tender, mushy words

That you can chew,

& forget what you are chewing.


At the end of the poem,

You’ll stare at the popcorn bag,

& question what was inside.

Hysterically you’ll tear it,

& throw it in the air.

The confetti will fall slowly,

& land on my face.

I’ll go back

To my own boring life,

& lapse into navel-gazing,

Once again.


Twitter @bibek_writes


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