What comes after the thing
is already part of the present
After that thing: the interview/exam/wedding/
birth/death/divorce/dream,
the dust will settle. Your cells
will rearrange in seven days.
You will adapt in ten days.
Some god sits monitoring
our fictive lives in his holy book.
I like to count my hairs,
measure my nails,
poke my nose into my future.
I like to taste the messy plate clean,
keep it ready for the future.
And the future is a scarecrow—
so when you feast on the present
notice how you will sit still
how you will send memes to your friends
how you will bake cinnamon rolls,
you will still fly, you will still read
this is for certain:
the present is already half the future.
Athira Unni is a researcher and writer living in California. Her debut poetry collection Gaea and Other Poems (2020) was published by Writer’s Workshop, Kolkata. Her poems have appeared in Channel magazine, New Note Poetry, Gulmohar Quarterly, Paper Dragon, The Alipore Post, etc. She is fascinated by octopuses.
