Crows At Bridge Poem by Najeeb Vadakkekad

My village has two flour mills,
One damaged and the second one
Run as river.

When my uncle, Jules
Go for sawing
Mustard seeds,
He
Troubled with the ghosts
Of crows that
Emerged
From the muddy land of past.

Good Friday;
Evening five o clock,
When I met seema and
Her son Janakan
nearby Theresa
flour mill,
a crowd marched up
from the down street
as a colony
of ants!
and there
was a news for
us that
the potato eater, Vincent
has killed himself!