ALL MY LIFE I’VE WANTED TO WRITE THIS POEM
The morning cup of coffee has to wait these days
till the last dregs of the afternoon are trickling down
the sky, running headlong into the sultry cage of evening.
Thunder rent the air today, halting the drowsy,
sleepwalking daily grind in its tracks. The last time
I was caught in the downpour was months ago.
I had made my way home in the dark, feeling as if
I had been drenched down to my very bones.
Much later, there was the oppressive heat
and the blare of the traffic and your hands
in my hair. I had imagined the winds serenading us
instead. Everytime it rains I want to kiss you,
go back to that dark, lonely evening, shake myself, and run
till I find you. The hours blur into each other now
and whenever I write, the words slip
from my fingers and start talking to you
in the dark of the night. Remember when you spent
nights unravelling the knots in my stomach?
You told me I could leap the six feet between us
whenever I wanted, I’m telling you there was nothing
before the leap. Sometimes I think I was always
carrying you with me like a fist wrapped
around my heart. You don’t make breathing easy,
you can’t, but you make it easier.
Mahima Kapoor is an English postgrad from Delhi, India, who divides her time between reading and writing for work and pleasure. Her work has previously appeared in Turnpike Magazine.