Kushal Poddar
Kushal Poddar

The Seeing Blindness

We watch the slim women model
for our favorite potato wafers.
What is silence but the crunching incisions?

When I pick up a chip and touch the remote
a circuit completes and a small moth in our head
flatters its wings; sits on different stratums.
There it lays eggs.

You ask me if we began blinding fold by fold.
I see. I see the potatoes sitting on your couch beside mine,
potatoes before the mirrors and the potatoes eating potatoes
as a mass culture.

Then I do not.