Forsythias at Sundown
Sneha Subramanian Kanta
my child will ask me
existential questions while I park the car
un-ready with answers.
I will take your name then,
say Hallelujah. Allah-Hu-Akbar.
Try invoking the divine in
and say I only know
the sea is dyed pink in autumn
when the sun sets.
No, I will not distract my child
or narrate passed-down scripts.
I will say that tongues speak
what they know.
The blue is bluer than pastel
cyan during summer, I will say,
while looking at places to stop
and see the day’s sunset.
We will perch by the side of forsythias,
the glow of sun on our faces.
I’ll say forsythias grow big
in East Asia and Southeastern Europe.
See, how the globe is composed,
how flowering plants grow everywhere?
God, I will say, has come here among these
to kiss your questions.
An awardee of the prestigious GREAT scholarship, Sneha Subramanian Kanta has a second postgraduate degree in literature from England. She is the founding editor of Parentheses Journal, a literary initiative that straddles hybrid identities across coasts and climes. Her work appears in Califragile, Former Cactus, The Quiet Letter and elsewhere.