Aman K Batra

Dad’s Office is My New Bedroom

My pink wall wilderness
makes the stay bearable.
Outside, everything rots
except for the fruit.
Dadima cuts peaches
into small boats
with smaller bruises;
nothing here travels
with the wind, we are still
half-mast and wading.
Dad was handicapped
now, Dad is dead.
We are all missing
a center, hollowed out
core, seedless orchard,
stunted as desert bones.
His jaw, a shallow port
a soft memory we feed
each meal made bite size
for no longer mouth.
“I’m not hungry,” my brother
says and Dadima knocks
fervent on my door
to keep each small boat
from sinking. Here,
colors sail, walls juice,
my depression is a jungle.
Here, I am my father
and Dadima offers
up her grief—plate rising
to cheeks round
and ripe as the peach.
“Please, eat.”

Aman K Batra is an Indian-American poet from Artesia, CA. She graduated from UCLA with a degree in Creative Writing and has since built her career as a nationally touring poet. Aman’s writing is heavily tied to her work as an educator, activist, and intersectional feminist. As a National Poetry Slam finalist and member of the Hollywood Slam Team, her work has been featured on All Def Poetry, Button Poetry, Vice, BeSe, and The Huffington Post.