Kaleidoscope

The Elengi branches on either side of the gate
tangle in an arch of green overhead,
muddy water pooled after each rain
in the pothole
leading to the main block—
but I no longer owned
the face
reflected in its water.

Blossoms—orange crinkly papers
still covered the green
of Gulmohar trees.

Monsoons—
blue-strapped Hawaii chappals
splashed mud
like drops of ink
on the hem of neatly pleated
half-sarees.

Summers smelled of coconut oil
and sounded
like the whimper
of dried leaves.

The canteen’s glass cabinets held
saggy medhu vadas
with oversized holes.

I bought one and took a bite.
It had lost its crunch.

The chappal-strap marks
had already begun to lighten
into the shade of my skin
as I closed
the campus gate.

Anjana Vipin Edakkunny is a writer from Kerala, India currently residing in the United States. Her work often engages with myth, memory, and contemporary experience, tracing how they bleed into one another. Her poems have been published or are forthcoming in Target Global Magazine, Poetry Potion, Borderless Journal, PoemsIndia, Zhagaram Literary Magazine, DoubleSpeak Magazine, Inverse Journal, Ghudsavar Literary Magazine, Tap Into Poetry, Plato's Caves Online,The Wise Owl and Avangeline Review. Her debut collection, The Sandalwood Pyre, is forthcoming from Writers Workshop, Kolkata.