By Divya Mehrish from New York, USA
What if I told you the spine
is oblong like a domino,
that the body is a memory
that loses itself and keeps
losing itself like a ripple
that echoes across a glassy
mirror of water until the sun
blinds its shrinking radius
into silence. What if I told
you that you have only been
taught the shape of your hips,
that what you see in the hum
of your reflection is not what
you are but what you could have
been. What if I told you the gut
is a planet and your torso is orbiting
a sun it cannot find. What if I told
you the human skeleton knows not
how to forget pain, that it touches
itself gingerly, as if its entire life
has been permanently bruised.
What if I told you reminiscence
exists as a light year—the star
exploded centuries ago, but from
where you sit, its serrated frame
flames into the swollen center
of your fickle vision. What if I told
you, softly, that you are enough?
You are enough. What then?
Featured Photo by Johannes Plenio by Pexels.