In April, I wrote a cruel poem.
Moss, skin, bone: textures unveil memory's red grip, yielding to decay's final…
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From ULR
Issue 14 – WITNESS
From phrases in the keep
Envious Death watched the coffin. A tune played. The speaker resisted, then felt gentle tug.
January 5, 2026
Bride of time,
Death, stood at the foot of my coffin,
Unloved and unmoved,
A study in shades of envy.
A ragged tune drifted through the door
Pushed ajar, by the hands of a clock.
Carefree, it twirled through the air upon
A breeze so stubborn it refused to lock the door behind it.
I shifted on my deathbed and pulled the covers
Over my aching, splitting head.
The floorboards creaked echoing my
Disapproval of the unwelcome visitor.
Suddenly!
(Belaying me was a cinch,
I dangled over a precipice.
Then I felt the gentlest pinch,
Perhaps a hydraulic hiss.)
A gentle tug and I am no more.
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Tathagat Chaubey
Tathagat is trained as a cultural theorist and sociologist. He writes about everyday things in a strange way. His academic instruction in ethnography and participant observation informs his poetry, which resembles fieldnotes - a constant bearing witness, a Flâneur-like quality perhaps. He has researched and written about identity, urbanism, nostalgia and migration. He has a B A Hons in English literature from Ashoka University and an MSc in Sociology from the London School of Economics and Political Science. He admires A.K. Ramanujan, Nissim Ezekiel, Mary Oliver and T.S. Eliot’s poetry.