Like my long dead father's face
I'm forgetting the mole on your lower lip
I'm forgetting the taste of cheap ice-creams
I'm forgetting that
I learned to hate Nandalal
since I was a boy.
In these crippled cities,
I must be a Nandalal to live on.
I'm forgetting the voice
that used to bid me goodnight.
It's hard to pull rickshaw
keeping the mask on.
Please! I can't breathe!
Md. Mehedi Hasan occasionally contributes to The Daily Star's literature page; he is a lecturer of English at North Western University, Khulna.