the sun sunk outside my window
the shadow of your jacket hanging outside
drying in the humid heat
of this tiny jungle
casts itself upon the wall

I should be outside
having my khichdi
for 9th day in a row,
the bowl of mashed porridgey dal rice
with a tablespoon of ghee
usually, deceives the scratching my chest suffers from
when the longing for home is too strong
when the longing for you is too strong
and makes it feel like home is here
and I’m okay

spooning the dish down my throat
at 7:30pm
the warmth of it usually fools my body into thinking
I’ve got the warmth you give me
and I can go on another day
if I came earlier I’d get sent back
which I was
on the daily
i usually needed the scratching to stop
so badly
that I’d visit the kitchen 4 times at least
hoping that the food was ready and
I could stop missing you

but baby today
I’m curled up on my cotton mattress
and I’m watching the shadows drop lower
and lower till they touch me
and I’m hoping that it’s touch
will carry some memory of yours

at 7:51pm the sleeve of your jacket made it down the wall
it touched my hand and
eventually, we laced hands
the scratching at my chest quieted
a shadow of the home I made in you acted as a balm
and I watched it
till the night took that version of you too

-5:42pm 27/8/16