Skype Window

Love comes like news.
Distance nurtures ambition.
Your Skype image grows larger each day.
Domestic life moves behind you like a halo.
Its large-heartedness surprises you,
this portrait as accommodative as your diary.
After the high-pitched talk and the low light,
you walk out of your portrait with second-hand description –
someone said you have “tribal shoulders”.
Outside, there is life and there is untimely sleep.
Sunlight feeds on your eyes like meat.
Sleep grazes on it like a cow.

Sumana Roy
Sumana Roy writes from Siliguri, a small town in sub-Himalayan Bengal, India.