Cinnamon hands (poetry)
Mahima Kochar
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(An ode to platonic love)
i think i could
sit
two ankles intertwining in hidden
discomfort at the thought of you
sitting silently across from me
tall and darker
from your trip
with love but twisted tongues
falter my speech and
pause my lips
from another embarrassing reprieve
but your teeth peak a hello
as you laugh
with me
not at
as many tend to do
or so I think
but you comfort
and sigh with me
at boys that bring
me
and you
butterflies from the meadow
where the cinnamon
dominates
and the wind makes way
for it to reach me
as I bite into it for the first time
and now i sit beside you
your palm under mine
intertwined
2020
