REBECCA VEDAVATHY

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the unsaids

the realization of dawn streams
into the room through the faint
slit of your eyes, half-ajar: light
lips stay obstinate, puckered

on the premise of morning sleep
we grow ten years older
as if subletting the years between us

to different people, convenience,
love, loneliness, laughter all answers
to the original question: subtlety
subs for honest words

for god forbid we tell each other
a truth that would annotate our
silences, god forbid the falling

​jamuns drop gently into the
hearth of our mouths, betraying
our sour mortality: fear
a purple tongue of former hurt.

​*