A Goldberg lurks within me
Making me sweat and shiver in fear
Lest he snatches my Marigold...my brain child
My spectacles betrays to look
His cigar makes them smoky
Someone told him, he
Screwed up christ, but
I was not among them
Then why me?
My Goldberg cries out
I was unborn when Christ was undone
Then why me?
I gave him my handkerchief
He sobbed, and even did I
And kept thinking
Why we, God?
Tuhin Mazumdar
M.A. Final
Department of English
Banaras Hindu University
Varanasi
