Varsha Patel

Shards of Mountain

A mountain of girl is desperate to be small.
A mountain girl is eroded to sand. Made small.

The sand girl screams to sound like a mountain.
Her mouth is Empty. The flatlanders keep her voice small.

The sand girl eats alone. The flatlanders, they point they
throw sticks and stones. Shove her down. Easy, she’s small.

The sand girl is hard. Invisible. Glass. Nameless.
The flatlanders throw bricks. Biceps big. Cocks small.

The sand girl shatters into millions of pieces.
All of them small.

The flatlanders cut their feet as they pass over shards of her.
The shards put together into something – something not quite small.

I haven’t seen you around before, what’s your name? the flatlanders ask
after the gluing is done.

Varsha.

Varsha.

Varsha.

And I sure ain’t small.

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