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Tuesday, March 8, 2011

words of a woman.

"We were read
like the torn pages of children’s notebooks
made into cones to hold warm chanajorgaram

We were looked at
the way grumpily, you squint at your wristwatch
after the alarm goes off in the morning.

We were listened to
the way film songs assail your ears
spilling from cheap cassettes on a crowded bus

They sensed us
the way you sense the sufferings of a distant relative
One day we said
we’re human too.
Read us carefully
one letter at a time
they way after your BA, you’d read a job ad.

Look at us
the way, shivering,
you’d gaze at the flames of a distant fire
Listen to us
as you would the unstruck music of the void
and understand the way you’d understand a newly-learned language

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