It is monsoon
and I haven’t tasted any mangoes yet
they must be sweeter than ever
but I have been surviving on popsicles
this city is hot, I am water most of the times
but when the raindrops fall on my window
it seems as if the sky is falling in love with the wind,
my legs are aching, it must have something to do with my flying.
Lately, I have grown fangs
discreetly, I have been nurturing dandelions on my fingertips
I wept when the sky fell down one night
on the pavement, and the water was so sweet yet forsaken.
I have been walking a lot
the sunsets are a bliss but the potholes are enormous
I always wanted to live by the side of a river
and the corridors of my city are finally catching up with that.
The noise is deafening here
and the constellations are hiding in my bathroom mirror
I like how my hair does not smell like shampoo
I have given myself a haircut, people keep asking me why
I tell them it’s because I’m going North of the North
as I hide my fangs buried under curled tongue.
The sky last evening made me a grasshopper
I leapt and pranced as if I was barefoot and flying
and amidst the noise of our hearts beating louder than the city
in the memory of all the twilights we have been bleeding in
there was music in the distance and I had to stop and look back
the peace came flooding and the wind was stomping on my holy feet
the street was begging for acknowledgement
and I kept standing
taking my teeth back inside, giving the ache in my legs a rest
and the rain washed away the scarlet off my skin,
the street lamps were resisting the urge to dance
and so was I.
But I’m not saying that I hope and dream a little too much
for I’m only human
but as I kept standing there in the music
I said the word ‘Living’ over and over
until it became a poem with the word ‘Thank you’
in each and every line.
artwork by Preeti Pandya.
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