My pillow is drenched in coconut oil, sweat
I am parched in this June heat
when she comes, water and lantern in hand
Didimoni, how did you know?
the hurricane candle and its shadow
her crescent face
rajkumari, princess
my hands in her hands,
thick gold bangle cold against skeletal wrists
the moon peeks behind her eyes
onek boro hou, become someone;
marry a good man, study, carry a knife,
lines on her forehead from praying, tell me, didimoni, do you
pray for me? The first one,
you have known me longer than I have known you
be cruel
your wide-eyed black and white photograph looks
more like me than mother, we share our honest eyes
when they come for you, and they will
do not forgive
do not be your mamuni
how do I confess that I am
afraid, I am afraid
Do not leave me here
I sleep in fear, be cruel,
I pray.
Aahir Mrittika is a Bengali writer and activist from Dhaka, Bangladesh. They are studying biological sciences and poetry at Bennington College, Vermont.
