By Muskan Kaur
A rusty side street utility pole bows over the ugly brown pavement
In a hesitant approach to a thousand passers-by
Nobody notices it could fall
Nobody notices it wants to fall
Nobody notices it has stood long enough
Nobody notices if not for its twenty wire arms stretching wide out on both sides in violent entanglements,
running endlessly in opposite directions,
parallel to the rough, raised edge between rubber wheels and human legs –
it would be down already.
Somebody once cared enough to hang a low sign
Only to advertise on its delayed doom.
“I write to waste the blue of the ink, the bird, the berry, the mood, the sky and the ocean.” – the poet