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.