Final Examination Paper, February, 2016.
Explain the way you look at the pink February skies in 100-150 words. Talk about why you think it’s colour of your guardian angel’s soft, soft wings. Talk about how the rain drops tasted a little like candy cane. Give examples of that time you ran down your apartment slope laughing like you had riots in your lungs. Write a brief note on how your neighbours scowled but you didn’t even stop laughing.
Construct a Venn diagram of all the things that you love about her and everything that makes you have revenge fantasies about her. Show that it is a circle. Try to explain to the examiner why you ever believed that one tangled bunch of thorns could somehow soften another.
How will you justify your late night texts?
A) Blame the night. See, maybe it will always take me a full moon to say your name and not make it sound like a battle wound. This night sky makes me remember the way you kissed me goodnight, and the way you left blood between my constellation teeth. I’m not sure which is worse.
B) Blame yourself. See, I was the fool. My love has always had teeth and I’m sorry I let it devour your heart. Please, I can learn to love on a leash. Please, I can tame this wild heart.
C) Blame him. See, you were looking at that picture of him on his Instagram and god, it makes you want to reach through your screen and hold him again. If it weren’t for that pretty little smile of his, your words wouldn’t be bleeding through his phone right now.
D) All of the above. You always thought February was a mystical month. The odd one. February always had a cloud of mist around it. You still see it as half month; half real, half dream.
February is the month your best friend decides to come home to herself. See she’s dusting all the covers and smoothing all the wooden edges. Why doesn’t anyone else understand that your best friend bleeds ichor, and while it’s chrome is brighter than orion’s eyes, you’d rather she not bleed at all?
How many times have you replaced your emotions with equations? How many times have you replaced your feelings for formulae? Is the answer too many? Are you nodding?
Describe your grandfather. Recall the time he showed you his bullet wound and laughed like it was a dandelion seed tickling his skin. Wonder if you should mention the time you caught him staring at the blackhole in his knee and despising it for taking everything away.
Describe the way you miss him. You found out at 4 am. You tried convincing yourself it was a nightmare. You tried so hard to go back to sleep but when you finally did you cried so damn hard you woke your sister up. You will miss him in the smell of pumpkin seeds and in the warmth of the sun and while looking at your toes that always looked a little too much like his.
In February, the girl asks you if your poems are paper poems or spoken poems. You say neither. You say mine are handprints on wet paint. Mine are footprints in wet cement. You say your poetry is neither a fleeting word nor a paper plane that can fly away. You say your poetry is concrete, constant, complete. Do you believe yourself?
Write a letter to everyone you are leaving behind, or the other way around, or both. (Keywords- Our flame will not be smothered. We are a runway that never ends. We are royalty, my loves, and this will not be the end of our reign.)
This is the month you realise you will be okay. True or false?
[A/N- Part 2/12 of 2016 series]