by Laila Brahmbhatt
(New York, USA)
1. Questions
Am I seeing enough sunlight?
Am I seeing enough darkness?
Am I sleeping enough,
or waking up too soon?
Am I eating white rice?
Am I touching green things?
Am I reading enough poetry,
or just a hungover page
from a chapter of my life?
***
2. Shadow Widow
My soul steps into your shadow.
Keep walking,
an unsung song trailing behind.
You might hear your voice
sing for me.
Nothing matters now.
I hear nothing.
Only silence.
Shadows are widows
of the love
we never share.
***
3. Hold My Hair, Each Strand
Hold my hair, each strand.
Each thread catches the arrival
of a new season.
Summer, hold it like a hermit
catching the breath of blossoming wings.
Spring, shake it like a sommelier,
counting intoxication in aroma
rising from water in a clay pot.
Winter, braid it into a tight garland,
entwined in your soft kiss.
Autumn, release my hair into a bed
where our secrets lie curled.
***
4. Thoughtful Relaxation Without You
I ache like wind
caught within the blades of a windmill.
By the river,
I watch ripples compose
a silent symphony of love songs
I regret hearing.
Your absence is my cutlery,
the knife and fork I use
to bite into the tasteless meal
of separation.
I long for you
but not with the kind of desperation
that makes me reach for the phone.
***