it’s night and i’m up so i’m down for it.
in the beginning it is always different.
he said your freedom ends where my nose
begins so i hit him back after he squeezed
orange rinds into my eyes and i watched
my knuckles for freedom like guns look at smoke
for mercy. my only plan for the future is to remember
something that reminds me of something else
like i remember her eyes warp in the rain
which reminds me of the black buttons i lost
in the sandpit when he tore my shirt open.
it’s just a game, he said. be a sport, he said.
so i became a cricket. it’s better to be a metaphor
of boredom, i tell her, as the commander of
phew, over a bottle of sula, than be bored through.
she takes a swig of laughter. but i wasn’t ready
for the future where she tells me what the rain
made her remember and what that reminds her of.
when i said in the beginning it was different
she heard begin again and it’ll be different.
Ajay Kumar is the author of the chapbook ‘balancing acts’ (Yavanika Press, 2023). His poems have appeared in Rattle, The Bombay Review, The Shore, and The Bombay Literary Magazine, among others. He lives and studies in Chennai, India.
JMWW 