Out of the smallness that is me
Not you
I don’t know how you stumble through this world
Or glide, shine, explode, trip
Out of the smallness that is me
Is the only point of reference
I’m no empath
Can’t speak for you, choose colors for walls or swatch of fabric
You may stand beside me all our lives
Rubbing shoulders, sharing scraps thrown
By the hedgemony
Still I am me and you are you
You born in a family of four
Eight, three, six
Me, born in zero
A concept that is Indian
As my concept is reduced
Shrunken, made to fit a narrow lens
Just me
Till this world strokes her end
On my wick
And kissing me bon nuit
Extinguishes the tick tock tick
Out of the smallness that is me
To some an ordinary, downright boring set of genes
We are not that much more to each other than code
The man who seaks a mate types;
Pale skin need not apply
I like coffee and cream not plain vanilla
Whilst to another I am a warrior, a fighter, a courageous soul
I could have fangs and scales and they’d love me still whole
Their eyes pierce the superficial wrapping of the world and locate my root
Still
I wake from salt, I die in sod
Alone
An only child, no lessons in
Understanding concepts of siblings
I hold your hands in imaginary play
You take the razor away and hide it behind teddy
We swim underwater to the same heartbeat
Imagination has a secret back door
You stay behind whilst I am forced
Out into a single stage for ill-prepared audition
Can’t tap dance your way to inclusion
The audience are sets of Siamese twins
One yawns, the other powders her nose
He tweeks his moustache, she fidgits on the balls of her toes
A dancer without freedom
As I am given too loose a rein
Tell the child to hush and stay out of sight
You may find her gone before she’s finished
Learning her lessons from the good book
And sun comes ashen and discolored through poorly wiped glass
Yesterday’s merriment hangs like a wreath in stale air
Adults drop their heads as if pinched with regret
Just yesterday we didn’t think on it
The hiss of spectator and judge dualing on parapet
Still I am me and you are you
Longing to transcribe the distance
Tap tap of moorse code
Flash flash the lantern extinguished by high wave
No translation
I sit
At a table for one
And watch the elbows jostle and spar
Closer than twice removed and strangers can understand
A plea we have no words for
In the long sum of day
Yawning at our door
Warm and content like a cat
Who has lapped spilt milk
Before it turned sour
Out of the smallness that is me
Seven billion voices and one
Stubborn in her persistent belief
We all
Count