ajji

it will soon be ten years
of absence
ten vacuous years
ten years of monstrous progressions
and no cadence

ten empty years
of slowly forgetting
and recreating, and getting wrong -
your vocal gestures

ten sordid years
of having a hole in my heart
shaped as you

ten lonely years
of not talking to you,
ten years of having not seen
your knobbly fingers
your hesitation
your cotton sarees
your writing on the board
your raspy voice

ten years of not having played with
your skin that stayed when pinched
your word-games nobody could win
your not visiting me
your not calling
your not writing letters
your not listening

ten ghostly years
of meandering, ten years of
loss of home

it will soon be ten years
of being misguided
and walking in the dark

and getting astonished at surviving
with your loss.

april is your month
your day of birth
your day of death
your day of introducing to me,
summer.