-Ankur Animesh Surin
The half-eaten energy bar
peeks at me when I
open the fridge
Cold escapes in a wooly flight,
disappears around my ankle.
I could have sworn it swirled
an anklet around,
tying my fate to the bar,
before disappearing in search of shadows
in my LED-flushed room.
Domestic adventures that last
less than two minutes
deserve no post-it mentions
on refrigerators, so
I take time and care
to boil my noodles
— self-love doesn’t conquer carbs.
The cool of darkness is reassuring.
A room bereft of memories
is a sore sight.
My eyelids scrape off what remains of
the emptiness lit
by nosy street lamps projecting
silhouettes of restless mosquitoes.
Ankur is a cinephile, photographer, and writer-editor. He loves Asian cinema and swears by Tsui Hark and Johnnie To. He is working on a fantasy novel.
The poem appeared in Pop the Culture Pill’s April Special Issue. Read it here.