When Spring Came, I Folded Your Name Into A Prayer

i

 I don’t know where you heard it first but the birds saw it 

                                                              coming from a distance,

Our heads small with sweaty palms, hands following light, 

             we walked into a dance that begins with a nursery rhyme

                                  and ends with the roads 

                              split like breakfast fruits and the air charged.                                                                  

I swear we swallowed our guts first, then the tips of our hands,

We followed our shadows into summer, then winter. 

It was so cold,

Every touch 

made me sway,

made me look

for the boy 

lost in spring. 

i

When spring came, I folded your name inside a prayer and said it aloud. I took the heavy sea in a rush and scoured the floor for signs of repair and rust.  I debated with myself if I should tell you I thought of you at night when I dreamt of a new sun. It has occurred to me, twice over lunch and thrice over dinner, that if I could live forever, I wouldn't. That you and I are inside a white man's dream, married, with perfect hair, perfect blue house, three kids. I have framed the walls with sacrifices to petty gods. My hands on the ledger, legs spread wide enough to cover the ground. I'm reading an astrology column and today does not look good for Sagittarius. Today, I chanted my own name into an incantation. I still missed you the most. It was easy to text you but I couldn't bring my hands to the phone, couldn't register a small message to be sent. When I hesitated before anything else, I became irrelevant.

i

In the afternoon, we summon flowers to a stranger’s house. When instead it rains, I rush inside to find the mouth of a pine tree breathing through the window. I console the birds in the other part of the house. They leave without a trace. It was almost like they were never here. 

i

There is panic, horses, children lost,

Dead cities, broad shoulders, but no

One to witness it. Not even one. 

i

We are watching the sunset 

from in-between the leaves &

the branches. Once golden

a sobbing ball of orange. 

Then suddenly no more. 

Outside the storm rages on. We watch a documentary on river Ganges. You hold my head to your chest and whisper into my ears it’s kind of boring and I nod. 

I wanted to go unnoticed into the night, curl up inside a song written in the memory of someone you're still in love with. I brought with me a yellow umbrella, your favourite colour, just to catch you off guard. From enough distance, everything looks beautiful. Everything's handmade here, even our faces.

i

I didn't want to have the last word, I just wanted to have a word. I wanted to behave like a good guest in my own house, patiently waiting for dessert. Let's go somewhere safer. I'll hold the door for you. I'll kiss your hands goodnight. My body is full of hunger, it eats up dirt too, anything it can lay claim on. There's no mistaking the blood for paint. No child roaring in the streets half past 3, no womb of god holding a pond of fish. There's nothing here, not even emptiness. 

 i

The summer of 2018, you practised

              smiling for hours in front of the mirror. 

The stranger on the street doesn't know that. 

              He doesn’t know you haven’t slept for days. 

Or that you have been crying to sleep. 

              He doesn’t even know your name. 

Science explains. But explanations matter 

              little sometimes. The entire world is held 

hostage. I think I might forget if I don’t 

              tell you this right now. The news is always

death. I keep thinking about it- the soft 

             gurgle of the ocean, the shy panting of the earth.

After all, we kiss under the mistletoe,

             And the lights go out.