Not everyone grows fat
in a quarantine. Look at me,
Just this morning I took the stairs
after picking up milk from the guard
...
The Frost Blue Coat
wasn't meant to be mine,
the size XL on sale for half its price
was, at best, oversized.
...
Pallavi Padma-Uday Singh is a bilingual Indian poet, writer and journalist based in the UK. Pallavi's work have appeared in literary journals such as Muse India, Madras Courier, The Punch magazine, Outlook magazine, Mint, The Indian Express, and Hindustan Times.)
Not Everyone Grows Fat
in A Quarantine
Not everyone grows fat
in a quarantine. Look at me,
Just this morning I took the stairs
after picking up milk from the guard
watching over the deliveries of
all my neighbors.
On floor one, I saw a mask in a bin and ran towards the second, heart racing
but that was just
runner's high.
I climbed past unkempt staircases,
I thought of the missing cleaners,
but I was just panting too much
to think anymore.
I reached 16th floor and took the lift,
the 22nd floor is vacant except for me.
A man in blue emerged outside the lift,
scrubbing the floor, but I just screamed.
A few weeks ago, I thought,
seeing a man was no big deal.
My heart has now grown
the size of a sinking boulder on Mount Everest
about to set off an avalanche.
Everyone gets fat during a quarantine -
the weight of sadness can not be measured
on a scale.