Creek Row

Between the road Sealdah-ward

and College Street

you are a thin, short-lived,

decaying corridor.

The point of zipping through

your oesophageal aperture

is not just to diminish

time, but tour the interior

body-part of history,

to feel no light and brush past

stone porches and unparted slats

as if one had entered

neither as spirit nor solid

the carcass of an old, old being

then burst out like a breath

into the present’s pungency.