Vismai Rao
Ode to Period
Time, bookended. Time of the month when I’m
upended--
Blackhead. Mole.
Comma’s unyielding cousin, the inverse of a star
marking a stop longer than a pause. Or the
end.
In the beginning,
you exploded— A million yous fell
into our lives, interrupting
everything we had to say.
Little chia seed. Tiny hairlet peeking
out of a follicle. I wonder why
the makers of Morse chose two dots
to mean I. The only way I can contain two
of you--
Unlit cave, how you keep our world
safe— geometry’s Lego block, God of
no-dimensions, how you keep us
from running out of
breath--
upended--
Blackhead. Mole.
Comma’s unyielding cousin, the inverse of a star
marking a stop longer than a pause. Or the
end.
In the beginning,
you exploded— A million yous fell
into our lives, interrupting
everything we had to say.
Little chia seed. Tiny hairlet peeking
out of a follicle. I wonder why
the makers of Morse chose two dots
to mean I. The only way I can contain two
of you--
Unlit cave, how you keep our world
safe— geometry’s Lego block, God of
no-dimensions, how you keep us
from running out of
breath--
Biography
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Vismai Rao's poems appear or are forthcoming in the Indianapolis Review, RHINO, Salamander, Glass: A Journal of Poetry, Parentheses Journal, & The Shore. Her work has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize and the Orison Anthology. She lives in India.
Find her on Twitter @vismairao |
