some days, the brown kid dares to dream of love
Arushi Rege
amma cuts me fruit / uses this apology / tells me / i’m sorry / as if we’re always whole / amma
tells me / cue up bones / as if watching forensic anthropologists / heals all wounds / jevayala ye /
because coming to eat / erases earlier yells / queen’s necklace calls, mother / it’s saying / forgive
me / seven times / until i’m forgiven / amma hates that i love / (a boy from kerala)
(the boy’s home state doesn’t matter
amma hates that i love more than
amma hates the boy.
amma likes the boy more than
she likes me. i try not to think about
what this means.)
the boy from kerala / tells me he loves me / using his hands / i know he loves me because / soft
kisses pressed / the top of my forehead / the boy is not from / maharashtra / or karnataka / like
my mother would’ve wanted / the boy loves me anyways / some days / if i let myself / i dream of
forever with the boy / some days i dream of ivy league colleges / some days i dream of summer’s
end
(the boy graduates soon. i do not
tell him i’m terrified for his leave.
the raw desire i hold for the boy
does nothing but haunt me every time
he kisses me
the boy wants to go to columbia. i know
he’ll go. i want to go to yale. i don’t think i’m making
it out of arizona. the boy wants as long as he can have
me; and yet i want forever. my mother disapproves, still.)
amma tells me i’m / not enough / i translate / you’re not enough becomes / i’m worried about
you / i love you / please be okay / i want better for you / do better / you’re not enough translates /
into the boy’s voice / into telling me / i love you / i love you / i love you / i
(the boy doesn’t know i write pages
upon pages of poetry for him. my mother knows
i write poetry for her. my mother believes
in happier poetry; unmarred by hatred my
soul possesses as it rots)
amma gave up so much / for me to be here / this, at least, i know / gave up a career / for my sister
and i / gives up time & time again / and yet / i watch my mother cut fruit / in the kitchen /
apologizes for wanting me to do better / wanting more of a daughter / she can’t have / a child /
she can barely face / a kid / who’s love she disapproves of / i make my mother chai, some days /
it’s my way of apologizing / amma has a child that loves using chai / and amma is a person that
loves / with fruit
Arushi (Aera) Rege is a queer, Indian-American poet who simultaneously attends junior year in high school. In their free time, they can be found reading good books, listening to R&B, and stressing over college. They tweet occasionally @academic_core and face the perils of instagram @aeranem_26. Their works have been published in Stone of Madness Press, Full House Literary Magazine, fifth wheel press, and more. You can find their website at arushiaerarege.carrd.co.
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