The Poles, a poem by Abhinav Aradhi

 

The Poles

He lives his life

By ups and downs,

 

Like an ambivalent gale

From an errant cloud.

 

It lifts him up,

And he’s airborne,

 

But then he tumbles down,

Bloody corpse on the floor.

 

At times he feels

Euphoric

 

And at time he feels 

Horrifying.

 

He looks into the mirror,

And there I am.

 

Glass shatters

And fragments coalesce with teardrops.