Sunday Poem By Sanjana Srivastava

My Favourite Man

Candies, pastries or toffees,
What have you brought from the office?
I reached school early today.
My teacher asked me to write how I spent the last Sunday.
I wrote that I spend my Sundays with my uncle,
My favourite man.
My best friend gave me a friendship band.
We played in the park and rolled over the sand.
You look tired.
Sit under the fan.
I will tell you a story of an elephant.

Numb.
Frozen thighs, arms and tongue.
Bruised bosom and bleeding gum.
I laid like a baby with my favourite man.
I gulped pus, fear, poison and death.
Teacher talks to me no more.
I write poetry on how I spend my Sundays,
With my uncle,
My favourite man.

Choked.
Need no candies, pastries or toffees,
Don’t be back from the office.
Need a man,
To talk about my uncle,
My favourite man.

Inhale – exhale
Expand – exhaust – create
I fly.
I dive.
Unruffled – unfazed
I write.
I rise.
I forget – remember my uncle,
My favourite man.
I forgive – punish my uncle.
My favourite man.

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