And on the Ceiling, a Lizard

When he told me he had a little sister
the same age as me, I imagined
safety. A link. I braided
words into a chain of connection.

When he told me that his sister’s
favourite subject was science
I lied and said – Mine too –
testing that bond of words.

When he rested his gun against the wall
and told me to lie down.
When he placed a grenade by the pillow
and unbuckled his belt

I watched the dust motes hang
in the air and the lizard freeze
on the ceiling, and knew that words
had never had the power to save me.

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Poetry of South Asia

This living and evolving digital and audio-visual collection explores the breadth, influence and poetic lineage of South Asia.

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