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AttachmentBy Neeru Ayer QuailBellMagazine.com  I'm not really a dreamer But I dream some Especially on nights when I'm not sure if I'm hot or cold Home is only a Skype call away Fifteen minutes
Of wondering if they can see and hear me But I once dreamed that We were all stranded in Russia I once dreamed that My father died And my mother followed I once dreamed that Not mosquitoes but fat crocodiles Resided in the swamp near home Dad and Mum the target of their menace But even in my dream I'm still attached To reality "I'm only an engineer," I whine Before confronting the reptiles Wherever it may be My dreams are all brownwashed Not the color of barks and branches Or poop Brown, the skin Where I come from We like to call it "fair" or "wheat" It’s okay if it can be bleached To unblemished ivory A manageable shade A marriageable hue When you live miles away The guilt is a healed scar That burns only at the memory I'm still attached to reality My favorite word is 'Brahmin' As I've been taught to believe And it works best when attached To 'guilt' CommentsComments are closed.
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