should i be bothered if my name is 'her'?



my name is her in a different story. where i am
a little. boy learns stifling romance. a feather in a
hat. some wings.  was it her in red dress?  certain
voices carry recitations when i learn boy’s tongue.
little more manoeuvering. her kisses the tarmacadam,
not knowing what it looks like. i am boy. i tell her
whatever i want, what she doesn’t know. i tell her
anything. till she believes she is beautiful. there is
no thrill in breaking ugly, he tells over my voice. 

 --Tanya Singh

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