got no fear; you turn back, on edge. Afraid of words the way I’m afraid of apathy. Dear Orange, this poem is about two ends of one ocean. It is about wet mangoes and colors I cannot see anymore. Pink and blue. Violent hues. A grey tight suit scribbles for you, face blurred by boundaries. You uncross your legs. You put down the sink, the slice, the shovel, the sun. You float inside the bright with orange hair and quiet pearls I hope you take off when you’re nervous / to remember the feel of texture, to laugh at the sunlit absence of cutlery, to give thanks to your left pocket for the immediacy of floors and the delicate rush of walls uncrumbling and finally glassing blue.
Note: The image is a piece by Anandita Bhattacharya.