Adithya Patil
everybody spoke to themselves at once
and i felt a million breezes hit me at once.
i saw the weaver bird drop like an old fruit
and imagined pebbles falling
from the windows of minds
huddled for no purpose. the sky seemed
glass—shattered but unbroken and held
itself together how it held down my sight
—always separated: the seer
and the seen, the coming
and the been. mirror stain: surface: page,
air, face, cotton, lens, prayer, linen, falling,
skin. I found myself dancing in a TV turned
off for silence. i realized i was
only membrane, holding against
two sides, yet wanting to overflow with one
still unchosen but holding against all holding
on to continue longer, just a little longer, as if
in a falsely remembered
expectation, as if i was
still inside the movie,
and they told me
i was framed