MANGOES on the
FLOOR 16 As I peek into the framed picture, My eyes replace the photographer’s camera And I become part of the chemical world, A world that is no longer mine With someone whom I no longer see. As a version of me stares at us Eating mangoes on the floor, She is jealous, Craving the once uncomfortable feeling Of the sticky juice running in droplets down our arms. She wants to be stuck in that chemical world, But is rather stuck in an everlasting winter Where mangoes do not grow.
