Reincarnation

Rushi Vyas

We remember each other from where you hang

from ambiguous suburban maple. At night, displaced

in sleepless leaves, you fall, an unripe fig.

 

 

 

Fruit falls because of our gaze.

Gravity is an angry, unseen thing.

 

 

 

I am tamarind between your teeth —

chewed, bled sour.

 

 

 

I flinch in your vein.

 

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