Absence of Sound by STACY DAGUIAR
Ask my name and I’ll utter a thousand words
that only sound like it.
that only sound like it.
“Do what is necessary,” they say
like necessity
is what brings me to you.
Like necessity
is what brings me here.
You say a person is either a question
or an answer,
But haven’t we used up all the question marks
we possibly could?
Defining ourselves in questions, when
they hoped for an answer.
like necessity
is what brings me to you.
Like necessity
is what brings me here.
You say a person is either a question
or an answer,
But haven’t we used up all the question marks
we possibly could?
Defining ourselves in questions, when
they hoped for an answer.
I draw every syllable of my name on the ground,
asking you to utter each one as I erase it.
You get stuck in between
and now I’m torn apart.
I’m half ground and half you.
Who are we now?
You pluck a bougainvillaea and leave it
over my half-erased name.
Grieving / the shrine of me
that could have been.
Vulnerability indeed makes you
a bad lover.
asking you to utter each one as I erase it.
You get stuck in between
and now I’m torn apart.
I’m half ground and half you.
Who are we now?
You pluck a bougainvillaea and leave it
over my half-erased name.
Grieving / the shrine of me
that could have been.
Vulnerability indeed makes you
a bad lover.
“Do what is necessary,” they say
So I shred my skin over the ground,
The half-won battle of lost identities.
And pray, pray, pray
A thousand eyelids
for you to crawl under.
For questions,
that sound like my name, and answers
that sound like yours.
I live,
Like it’s a necessity and not a
deliberate choice to mourn.
Embossed,
under three and a half eyelids
You lacerate my heart
And I spill.
My presence,
a nexus between two absences.
But tell me,
Will you contain me now?
So I shred my skin over the ground,
The half-won battle of lost identities.
And pray, pray, pray
A thousand eyelids
for you to crawl under.
For questions,
that sound like my name, and answers
that sound like yours.
I live,
Like it’s a necessity and not a
deliberate choice to mourn.
Embossed,
under three and a half eyelids
You lacerate my heart
And I spill.
My presence,
a nexus between two absences.
But tell me,
Will you contain me now?
Bhairavi Ponkshe
#BhairaviPonkshe
