Assembling by Jayant Kashyap


after Abegail Morley

Sometimes late at night he hears her after rain,
her raw voice hangs in the air for hours.

And even in the middle of rain, there is
her voice, when the clouds cease to clamour
and water only drips from the sky; — she is heard.

And he hears her when she is not here, not in the room,
nowhere under his sky; — she is heard.

This is what memories do to anybody — us, — their
leaving or not leaving is never the question.
Their inexistence is never absence, or anything
interchangeably intolerable; — they are heard.

And she never leaves him, she is the air that
enters his ears, the vibration that beats on his
eardrums, he can not leave her; — she is heard.

And everything that belongs to him, is an assembly
of bits that are hers. And bits, he keeps assembling.
And there is music that never leaves, that sure is
hers; — she never leaves him; — he never wants her to.
And she is the air, the vibrations; — she is heard.


Jayant Kashyap is a Pushcart Prize-nominee, and among other achievements, one of his poems was also featured in the Healing Words awards ceremony, and a couple others won places in Young Poets Network’s challenges. He is the co-founding editor of Bold + Italic, and a food blogger. His debut chapbook, Survival, comes soon.

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