by Tanya Singh

 

can i say that i am scared of the way the ocean moves
when you raise your arms above the room temperature,
i learn that your body is light and helium, & it doesn’t
catch fire the way my hands do. translucent & ashes.

i try to rub the matchstick against your body to see if
there is fire inside the hearth. our hearth is bolted,
and caved inside the matchbox. we press our hands
against it. & i let you use the friction between us to
cook, or burn. whatever suits the occasion.

the wind knocks at you ears and mentions my name,
when we both decide to sit inside the pool of fire, i can
hear the ocean move, how the tide lingers onto the wind.
my body squirms & your body sighs. & i haven’t
learnt how to rise above the room temperature.

 

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Tanya Singh is the Founder & Editor-in-Chief of The Cerurove Magazine. Her work has appeared, or is forthcoming in Literary Orphans, Black Napkin Press, Indolent Books (What Rough Beast Series), among others. She lives in India.

 

 

 

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