6:53am:
I’m on my way to school,
wearing the same grey plaid skirt
that I’ve worn since the past 7 years,
I untangle the pleats,
one by one,
my heart tangles a little.
7:43am:
I sit in the assembly
we’re discussing laws today,
right to life,
right to freedom of speech and expression,
right to privacy,
section 377.
“it is a sin,” shouts a voice from the back,
“abnormal,” shouts one from the front,
“should not be allowed,” chimes in from my side.
The audience growls in unison, “abnormal”
I see myself mouth the same word
over and over and over and over again.
I fall in with the crowd,
today I am normal.
9:21am:
I paint two girls in my art class,
there faces fairly engulfing each other,
her hand over her hips,
the other wanders a little wildly,
i taste the shade of their lips on paper.
13 minutes later,
my art professor tears the sheet in 32.
11:47am:
middle of my day,
we’re out in the field,
tiffin boxes and laughter,
empty tiffin boxes and laughter.
I make a list of 43 ways,
to tell my friend
there is a closet,
that I refuse to hide inside.
She giggles,
and I smell sunshine,
44 ways now.
12:19pm
the washroom cubicle is a closet,
that I walk in and out of,
in and out,
in and out,
in and out,
in and out.
I’ve heard metaphors
help deal with reality.
I’m not closeted anymore,
I feel naked today,
I stare at myself
in the broken scarred bathroom mirror
that my school hasn’t changed
in the past 73 years,
I refuse to wipe off my tears today,
today I’m normal.
12:53pm
my friend borrows my notebook
to copy the last 3 sentences of today’s classwork.
As I hand it over,
covered in the uniform brown paper,
I remember the rainbows,
and hearts,
and “I want to 377 you”
scribbled over the last few pages.
I snatch it back,
I remember I’m normal today.
1:17pm:
i see colours a lot differently,
I don’t wear black or white.
I don’t want to.
black and white,
the closet I do not feel
like locking myself in,
I don’t like calling it a closet either,
my closet’s very colourful,
it has 53 different shades of yellow,
it feels a lot like home.
I call black and white a box,
the brown cardboard box
that you sell your old newspapers in.
I don’t want to be yesterday’s newspaper.
I don’t feel at home there.
Today I’m normal.
1:47pm:
I’m on my way home,
wearing the same grey plaid skirt
that I’ve worn since the past 7 years,
I let the pleats stay tangled,
as I untangle my heart.
today, I’m normal.
_untangling the pleats
26/09
•
•
•
emmess
a few days ago, my friend shared her story with me. This is dedicated to her; more power to you! 💙
I’m on my way to school,
wearing the same grey plaid skirt
that I’ve worn since the past 7 years,
I untangle the pleats,
one by one,
my heart tangles a little.
7:43am:
I sit in the assembly
we’re discussing laws today,
right to life,
right to freedom of speech and expression,
right to privacy,
section 377.
“it is a sin,” shouts a voice from the back,
“abnormal,” shouts one from the front,
“should not be allowed,” chimes in from my side.
The audience growls in unison, “abnormal”
I see myself mouth the same word
over and over and over and over again.
I fall in with the crowd,
today I am normal.
9:21am:
I paint two girls in my art class,
there faces fairly engulfing each other,
her hand over her hips,
the other wanders a little wildly,
i taste the shade of their lips on paper.
13 minutes later,
my art professor tears the sheet in 32.
11:47am:
middle of my day,
we’re out in the field,
tiffin boxes and laughter,
empty tiffin boxes and laughter.
I make a list of 43 ways,
to tell my friend
there is a closet,
that I refuse to hide inside.
She giggles,
and I smell sunshine,
44 ways now.
12:19pm
the washroom cubicle is a closet,
that I walk in and out of,
in and out,
in and out,
in and out,
in and out.
I’ve heard metaphors
help deal with reality.
I’m not closeted anymore,
I feel naked today,
I stare at myself
in the broken scarred bathroom mirror
that my school hasn’t changed
in the past 73 years,
I refuse to wipe off my tears today,
today I’m normal.
12:53pm
my friend borrows my notebook
to copy the last 3 sentences of today’s classwork.
As I hand it over,
covered in the uniform brown paper,
I remember the rainbows,
and hearts,
and “I want to 377 you”
scribbled over the last few pages.
I snatch it back,
I remember I’m normal today.
1:17pm:
i see colours a lot differently,
I don’t wear black or white.
I don’t want to.
black and white,
the closet I do not feel
like locking myself in,
I don’t like calling it a closet either,
my closet’s very colourful,
it has 53 different shades of yellow,
it feels a lot like home.
I call black and white a box,
the brown cardboard box
that you sell your old newspapers in.
I don’t want to be yesterday’s newspaper.
I don’t feel at home there.
Today I’m normal.
1:47pm:
I’m on my way home,
wearing the same grey plaid skirt
that I’ve worn since the past 7 years,
I let the pleats stay tangled,
as I untangle my heart.
today, I’m normal.
_untangling the pleats
26/09
•
•
•
emmess
a few days ago, my friend shared her story with me. This is dedicated to her; more power to you! 💙
0 comments:
Post a Comment