P O E T R Y
Koushin Unber
He’s a question mark hooked over his table,
unbeknownst to the world outside
an emblazoned hammer in his oxide-covered hand;
a checkered breastplate framed up by a nightstand;
with pails of bitumen and sacks of asphalt by a crackling hearth;
Baxter said his fissured face and blistered fingers weren’t
made for love-making but rather flame breaking.
His steps towards the anvil are an arrhythmic clink,
worlds fainter than the heavy clangour of his tools –
effortless and strong.
He’s a question mark hooked over his table,
toiling away assiduous at the day’s work and,
unbeknownst to the world outside.
Koushin is a certified bruh girl with the emotional capacity of a brick. Rattle on about schools of philosophy or film theory to her at [email protected]