without even knowing what you’ve done.
No?
He says, to complete every statement of affirmation.
And I’ve caught up.
We’ve never met before,
no?
You say, the first time we meet
In a courtyard,
where it is you and me and his presence and absence
all at once
I want to say we’ve met.
Between pillow talk, between doing the dishes, during a favourite Bollywood song,
and always when a pot of jaulo is stewing
When you throw open your arms towards me, I shrink.
I’m small, not bright, not glowing with the peace
of someone who has left
I’m so small,
wanting, aching for
what I can neither leave nor undesire
I shrug as I’ve never done, when I respond to your questions.
I’m smiling, more than my jawline can bear.
Grinning is painful.
Your hair shines like gold in the late afternoon sun
Your hair, that spread over
what is now his unused pillow
You tilt your head the way he does
when he’s happy,
winking at the setting sun
And words make their way to you from somewhere in my ribs
before I am able to edit them:
We should hang out some time, no?
Yes, yes. You say.
And inside me, I turn to the meaning of
what I used to use the syllable to mean, before him.
Before you.
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