In my third eye,
I rose out of the Potomac
through sun-pierced cloudlight,
Ophelianic, offering slippery selkie love
to the self-ordained fashionites
who reject my cinnamon-laced libation,
sacred gift of release.
They trample the ashes
in their gauche ballerina flats,
bows and crosses on the toes
mirroring contact concerns and icy dream-glares.
What injustices permeate this small world
with its liminal limelight.
Miniscule minds cast gargantuan shadows,
loath to consider
the harrowing humor of human interaction,
and measure elixirs of life
in millimeters of connections
turning red love to blue-black blood,
seeping through a funnel
of sameness in a diasporic sea,
where the individual lies flat against the tide.
On the waterfront,
thefashionites recede into cutout, silhouetted selves
that eschew the experiential mystery
of self-created glamor,
teetering on their desire to break the patterns.
The lights morph on the mortal water,
as I attempt to bring the fire forth.
Souls map their differences
to banalities, within boundaries.
I imagine the moment Brahma sent Ganga to Earth
to flow, to purify, and to travel
on to the nether-world.
In this mini-city, I am so bored.
Poet’s Bio: Kavitha Rath lives in Washington, DC and has written blog and journal articles focused on global health. In the past, she has received an honorable mention in Princeton’s Leonard L. Milberg ’53 High School Poetry Prize contest, and recognition from the Georgia Poetry Society. She enjoys writing about literature and post-colonialism on her blog Illume at Eight.