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  • Hridi

To Tell You This: I have tried

I measure time to pounce. Counting my breaths in the undergrowth, I measure time to pounce.

Let me rewind. It was the back waters and it was the green and the fact that I wasn’t eight yet: I was awaiting a tiger.

I remember the elastic mud pulling me in. I remember the crabs clawing at my yet pink toes. (There must have been leeches but I forget) I remember thinking The Tiger is scared

in a different language.

I pounce- it is a cat- your black cat- the green- the reeking turpentine, linseed- bursts open- a flock of wild orange!

Bloodied canvas of inarticulation, Fifteen years later I decide to tell you this story Knowing not myself.



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