you always take two steps at a time on stairs—one two
one two
one
you have yet to cross your mother in height
you let her know about your growth by walking ahead of her
but remember
not to be the first one to enter the apartment
let her do it
she nudges you
go inside
you refuse
aroma of cardamom ginger garlic
in paneer makhani
invites you inside
but
she needs to have it first
show it is safe for you
she needs to eat drink everything
before you
remember the hiccups
remember the day they wouldn’t stop
hic hic hic
you tried water sugar bananas breathing exercises
nothing worked
hic hic hic
like a broken cassette on your father’s dusty old stereo
he took you to his friend a homeopath doctor
asked
if a poison could be the remedy
hic hic hic
he was frustrated from your endless excuses to avoid school
one or two drops of something
and you never know
hic hic hic
they fight again and again and again
lately
you need to make them
eat and drink everything first
you never know
you dream again and again and again
you walk to the kitchen
and stop outside
unable to quench your thirst
one afternoon
she will drink chai
you will ask
did papa ever hit you?
she will refuse
she will tell you a story instead
a tale of lines and dots
lines are unruly uncontainable lawless
dots are grateful organized lawful
your father is a line
i am a dot
the conflict of our lives
lines don’t limit themselves
they don’t fit between points
you will carry that lesson for years
you will remind yourself again and again and again
Shirin Abedinirad, Dance of Tree, 2018. Land art, Mongolia. Presented at the 5th Land Art Biennial LAM 360°: Who Are We Now?, the work wraps a tree in translucent fabric, allowing wind, branches, shadow, and light to create a choreography of repetition and continuity, with nature as performer and the viewer drawn into silent dialogue. Artwork courtesy of featured artist Shirin Abedinirad.
