29 Mar Do You Remember Us as Children? by Urooj Salar
“Do you remember us as children?”
I don’t either, not entirely.
I stood on tables singing and screaming poetry,
so you must have been the quiet one.
Now, turmeric stains my sleeves,
and they braid dandelions around my fingers.
Now, you’ve been experimenting with facial hair,
and I’m too cautious to comment on it.
Now, you are the old folk song, the lullaby,
and I am the silence between tracks.
Soon, we’ll watch sitcoms in English together,
and you will yearn for the sun.
“Kingston is warm,” I’ll say,
but I’ve known worse winters, snow like salt.
You’ll say, “The sun thawed our bones in the mountains,”
then we’ll rest by the fire, backs to the cold.