the clipped vowel
i. i took a pair of scissors to my own name : r o s e [ I e e n] the last four letters sounded too
much like a r r i v a l sounded like a v i s a stamped on a tongue. it wasn’t that the teacher
stumbled : it was the way the leen vibrated too i m m i g r a n t in the air. i buried the suffix
in the playground dirt : so i could just be r o s e : a flower that was p l a n t e d h e r e. i
turned my volume down until i was a
[ m o n o s y l l a b l e ].
ii. [ THE OVERLOAD]
india is a blunt instrument: the heat: a physical bruise : the honking is a fever : the dust is a
second skin i didn’t ask to wear : i am told i am returning : but my lungs crave the damp :
grey : predictable : chill of a kiwi morning. i love the silk : the saffron : the gold : but i am a
tourist in my own marrow : counting the hours until the sterile order of the departure lounge.
iii. [ THE COLLECTIVE DEBT ]
in the supermarket aisle : a headline flashes : a man : 3,000 miles away : wears a face that
matches mine. suddenly : the air in the dairy goes [ C O L D] the purse-straps tighten : a
stranger’s grip is a sharp frost : the side-eye is a blade : i am seventeen : carrying the crimes
of a billion strangers sewn into the lining of my school blazer.
iv. why is my skin a u n i f o r m ? why is my heritage a li-a-bi-li-ty ? there : i am the
westerner who lost her tongue. here : i am the other who is asked to explain. i am a bridge
made of broken glass.
v. i am building a
[home]
in the static between stations. i am the girl who eats the culture but cannot speak the
source. i am the un-belonging : the ink bleeding across the border : belonging only to the
[ AIR ]
Roseleen Kaur
Year 12
Botany Downs Secondary College
