two decades and a handful of years later
you realized that even two people
wanting the exact same thing, when placed
in a same room can feel lonely together.
my mother always kept the spices on the top shelf
along with the pickles and the jar of salt
(but never sugar or honey.
she’d always keep them on the bottom shelf)
and due to her tall and slender build, it was
always within her grasp.
she’d say that everyone should always
have something sweet within their reach
and that no one should have to struggle for it.
but that is how it is with the most of us —
we struggle to seek the things we
need the most, and by the time we acquire it
we no longer possess the struggle to justify what we need.
two people in the same room
are struggling to reach the salt.
you watch their fingers flutter for a while
before they finally give up and fall still
like dandelions —
swaying,
stationery,
slowly disintegrating beneath a motherless roof.
this is how grief appears to the naked eye
when within striking distance.
Anirban Dam is a twenty-something parasite who thrives on guilt-free sarcasm and gluten-free poetry. His physical form was last spotted in Bombay.
