Kite in My Pool
By Spatika Jayaram
The children fly kites on railway tracks.
strings slice through the dark clouds
from a coughing engine,
puffs blown in slow ascent.
the train smokes cigarettes,
as food for meal,
and kites dance in the lung’s ordeal.
Their bare feet play ping-pong,
across hot metal, stopping to
rest in hutments of grass
to whom the wheels were kind.
soft shades of green in gravel mine.
I see the boys’ shirts match the color
of dirty linen.
I see them below, from a glass window
at the same time, every day
A kite blows past the wall,
landing by the side of the pool
my daughter swims in.
It is taken away
only to be raised back,
to the sky of next day,
from garbage bins.
Spatika Jayaram is a fourth year student at the Indian Institute of Science Education and Research, Mohali, pursuing an Integrated Master’s in biology. She is an INSPIRE Fellowship recipient, interested in neurobiology and writing. She is also a contributor at Feminism in India and Delhi Poetry Slam, and a senior editor of her institute magazine.