Srishti Jain 🔈
I watched intently as the crow gnawed at the half-eaten apple,
the apple that still carried teeth marks and gum marks,
and marks from the ground and from the rain –
the rain that had fallen on the apple and the bird
and on you and on me and on everything outside of us.
I thought of how everything was outside of us.
I thought eventually everything must merge into a continuum of touch.
I thought I was the apple, half-eaten and lacerated –
hanging on the bird’s beak with bits dropping back into the rest of the world.
I thought you were my teeth marks.
I thought eventually the bird must finish you off by finishing me off.
I was wrong, you were the rain,
and I sit here in your wash.
About the Author
Srishti Jain is a cancer researcher and physiologist. She grew up in the lush small town of Chandigarh, India and moved to Bristol for her university studies. She now works in Dublin and writes poetry to keep herself sane during her PhD.