I am trying to figure out what parts of me are brown

and what parts are white, because we both know I am neither

through and through.


I do not speak the bhasha, the language, my mother tongue

the words I have are scattered and unconnected,

a diaspora of phrases seeded in my chest

seeds that never bloomed.


My name doesn’t give me allegiance, if anything it pushes me further.

First name, unconnected, last name, colonizer.


I exist on a fault line, but I do not which side will crumble.




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