Glasses Poem by Kushal Poddar
Glasses
Glasses
The day my brother
joined his job,
I still play with ants
and a pair of glasses-
one concave and the other
convex, our father said,
one less son we have.
My brother liked uniforms
and that he would yield a gun.
One less son,
said our father.
From a vantage point
I stared at the army of the ants,
glasses on my hands,
and I clap them together.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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3/12/2026 8:23:22 PM # 1.0.0
