Ellen Kombiyil
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Eve: A Cubist Rendering
too late too late always too late she tells
herself she’s begun to sweat sweet taste spills
sour down throat back she zippers the suitcase
an angry gaping mouth the contents dis
heveled what she might have last minute packed
collapsing in a pile she ginger steps
past unraveled belts let loose like constrictors
shy and just born her guilty conscience
holds up a sign at the airport saying
don’t go and I’ve caught my reflection
again in beveled glass an eye stuck
where it shouldn’t be in the center
of my forehead meant to foreshadow
she’s gone down the wrong path caressed sun
flecked snake as she walked past come back girl night
never ends soap bubbles pop in a dishpan
release whiffs of lemon whiffs of chlorine
as I look through rain streaked glass her face
removed from the window removed meaning
far away meaning barrier also she’s
not crying amid stale éclairs and machine
cappuccinos drained into glazed china cups
This poem was originally published in Histories of the Future Perfect (2015, The (Great) Indian Poetry Collective)
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Ellen Kombiyil is the author of Histories of the Future Perfect (2015). She is a recent transplant from Bangalore, India, where she lived for nearly eleven years, leading writing workshops and teaching yoga. She is a four-time Pushcart Prize nominee and has read, performed or taught workshops at the annual Prakriti Poetry festival in Chennai, the Raedleaf Poetry Awards in Hyderabad, and Lekhana in Bangalore. She is the co-Founder of The (Great) Indian Poetry Collective, a mentorship-model poetry press, publishing innovated voices from India/Indian diaspora. Originally from Syracuse, New York, and a graduate of the University of Chicago, she now lives in New York City with her husband and two children.