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  • Sen Rajah

Mongrel...a work in progress...part 1



Interlude #1


the smell of animal

raw onions

chilli that pinches the eyes


mother


I’m a doors breath away,

I’m supposed to be studying

shuffling symbols from one place to another


I can appreciate the beauty of it

the calm that comes from repetition,

the joy of symbols clicking into place


mathematics is important to mother and father

they feel it has a purpose

they feel it will give me a purpose

a goal towards which I can work

a future towards which I can grow


but


squeezed between my legs

crotch pressed


a book


stories


I can’t get enough of them

heroes,

villains,

damsels in distress,

monsters that changed in to men,

men that changed in to monsters


it is this kind of shuffling that gives me purpose

that sets my heart beating


I was never a child for running wild

for jumping in puddles or swallowing dirt

I was quiet

sometimes so still

mother and father worried

that I was slow


broken in the head


that is until I was shown how to read


I have to thank her for that


-again

-say it again

-that word

-repeat it

-now the whole sentence


she took my dead tongue

and forced life into it

she made it twist

turn

flap fold

she made it dance


mother


we didn’t have much


back there


we had heat from a hob

we had a window that would never close

we had a mean old alien who would scream at us in the night


-go away

-get back

-you fucking


I learnt to run on tiptoes

to close doors without a bang

I learnt to be so quiet

that anyone sitting in a another room would think the house was empty


how to travel without moving?

how to escape when flight is impossible?


I have to thank her for that


heroes,

villains,

damsels in distress,

monsters that changed in to men,

men that changed in to monsters


-again

-say it again

-that word

-repeat it

-now the whole sentence


she made me swallow whole worlds

she made me spit them out

syllable by syllable

letter by letter


back there


I would sit for hours


head in a book

mind in a world


lost


the power of language lies in its ability to create time,

to make bubbles that shrink and expand according to the logic of the words being used


we have privileged one type for too long

the gentle curve that bends continuously that slopes up and down in a manner that’s intelligible


I have lived in so many different times

I am time stretched

time filled

I am cancelled out



in such a way

silly boy


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