Chuppi

The Book-cover On the Window-ledge

Lying here in the humming sun.

Looking around for the book that I used to cover.

The light flits in through iron bars and lands on

my skin, every inch of it crowded with impressions not my own.

Well, not anymore. Ink drops, thumb prints, margin-scribbles, coffee-coloured

ciggarette holes. Names and dates and feather-touches. Guess I am bound by their

journey, to remember. I don't want to remember. I don't want the sun to shine into

my lost secret core. I was not meant to have a secret core of my own. Or lose it.

I was meant to sleep on my book like a strong soundless shell

while others dug into it's heart, misunderstanding it in newer ways.

I was meant to be a book cover.

Covering my book well.

It was not for me to remember.

The Rock By the Sea-Line

Lying here on the brink of my waters.

Dreading one wave at a time. Every sign on

my bumpless body washed clean. Never been allowed a mark. 

Never been asked to remember. I cant tell the scent of the salt

from the song of the shells. I want to remember. I want to remember 

the first sea-bird who stopped to rest on my shoulders on it's way south. I want to remember the

direction in which her feathers were ruffled. Did she marvel at how strong I was?

Did she hate me for being strong?

I want to remember the sand castles people built. The grains they sunk their toes into.

The silence they carried home. The words they left behind

for the sea to console. I want the sun to scortch caves into my body.

I want some young boy to carve a tender name upon my skin between the arrival 

of a thousand waves. And the vein-like letters of her name to cover me 

long after he has forgotten about her sad-song eyes.

All I want is a memory I can save from the sea.

I don't want to be strong anymore.

Just broken enough to

remember.