4th Floor Window

by Subhankar Das

One day I will fly out
of this fourth floor window
leaving you all alone in bed
caressing your hairy pussy
with your long slow tender fingers
beside your snoring husband
facing the wall.

No one wants to stay.
Everyone who has
a little education or skill
is migrating to a foreign land
for more comfort and money.

No one wants to stay here.
Only the trees that cannot fly
like me keep on growing
their roots longer and longer
for a better grip in this loose soil.

Only the midwife
whom I see every night
from my fourth floor window
caressing her hairy pussy in bed
beside her husband
snoring like an engine in a halt station.

I look at my half finished
whisky bottle beside my bed
lie down and close my eyes
and wish for some sense
and forget as usual to switch the light off.

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