Home is a Sun

The Eiffel Tower blinks dumb golden tonight—

Microwave beeps, again

Seeking attention. When I think of mistakes

Recent, others worn out

in the playground of stronger boys

Who picked me last


shunning difference, nice

Hermetically sealed club. I watched

on from afar, acid rejection

Sour on the tongue

craving. Now a wind

flays the balcony edge

I sit watching Paris darken

Blacker than winter in a foreign land

When home is a sun

Left behind.

Teacup sits in microwave prison

Although not brown as I am

But white and confident,

Cold—occupying space, something to learn

Before the end. You always

Were proud of me,

Of simple us. Laughter and wit

Specks of cosmic dust

Until chemo engulfed joy

But couldn’t the spirit of you.


Tejas Yadav is a polyglot writer and scientist whose work has been published in Burnt Roti, Active Muse, Borderless Journal, Tiny Buddha and Literary Traveler etc.

Featured image illustration by Pariplab Chakraborty.