a house is the sine curve
of your turbulence.
its peaks and troughs
mirrors the flight of
shuttlecocks in the
living room, growing up.
when i was twelve, you
laid Ma's body here,
our court a meeting
point for last embraces.
at twenty i located
another her, drew
a bisecting line;
our paths furcating.
what remains: you
tangent to home,
at the intersection
of all our axes.
of your turbulence.
its peaks and troughs
mirrors the flight of
shuttlecocks in the
living room, growing up.
when i was twelve, you
laid Ma's body here,
our court a meeting
point for last embraces.
at twenty i located
another her, drew
a bisecting line;
our paths furcating.
what remains: you
tangent to home,
at the intersection
of all our axes.
By Qamar Firdaus Saini
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