I’ll Show You
For 18 year-old me
By Ilisha Thiru Purcell
Horizons on your fingertips and a paint-palette sky
look up.
Days scrunched into the hours of late mornings
let go.
Music that makes your hair a halo of frizz
dance often.
A coastline that ripples like your thighs under his open hand
it’s your body.
People who would give you their nerves and memories if they could
text your cousin
who would stay up to wire another’s heart in hope of fixing your own
listen.
A family, webbed like string-hoppers, tossed from heart to mouth
learn amma’s tongue.
Laughter that dissolves everything except the present moment
breathe fully.
A love that warms cold fingers and speaks in every sense
say his name.
A future that looks nothing like your past
turn the page.
