Still Life

But what night isn’t like this?

I’ve always been since earliest version of life


Like the dinner table

Carrying tedious things

On my head—

When there are people talking over

And when the voices vanish,

Life comes out of my mouth

Holding a spatula

… it looks just like me

If only I knew how to cook.

I’ve experienced imaginations of the

End of the world.

So I’ve never been happy.

But I’ve been content in small spaces-

Queues, linen back seat of a Hyundai

That tiny store. North face.

A girl’s heart.

Each day I enter life at the same moment:

You alone in your room at midnight

Are in your nighties beautiful

As how people stop to watch the moon together

The night is…what again?

Listen: the slow parade of wind, the fan

And the refrigerator, humming.

The mouse in your cupboard

I have always sounded like this.

Christ Keivom

Christ Keivom is an Indian poet currently studying as an undergraduate literature student at Delhi University. His work has been previously published on Pangolin Review, Eve Poetry Magazine, and All Ears Literary Magazine.

NOVUS Literary and Arts Journal
Lebanon, TN