by Harsimran Kaur
(Jalandhar, Punjab, India)
To see you transcending before time into little
droplets of charred sugar-like emotions,
to see you becoming - into the pixie dust that
I wanted to become- live the teenage dream,
cut my roots, dye them into vermillion, green, yellow,
to see you vicariously, casually become
a woman in a forest of enchantment with all the
other men, I know that you’ve become, if not,
the woman of the entity.
The anatomy of your dreams consists of a preface.
My girl - if they didn’t write you a foreword,
write it yourself. A voyage of rubble and stationery.
You’re a raani from the day you came into me-
A part of me that I’ll always adore.
Move beneath the ocean and the land - superior.
The sudden unrequited nemesis - not too bad
for your subtle skin. You’re like a crown, a warrior, a ring.
Careful - the epiphany of your dreams is like change.
Change is a euphemism.
Piece of velvet in your hair, Artless smile contributing towards
the cause of humanity - done.
You’re a nostalgia, a force, a declaration. Your centripetal power
like that of a social event cannot be escaped.
You’re an angel, a goddess, a devil, a queen. You’re the art,
the painting, the books, and the movies.
You’re endless. You’re limitless.
But most of all, you’re a Sappho.