if looks could kill
Eve's eyes would
pierce your heart
you are stepping on his life

his throat folds in

you are folding your palms
over your eyes
and you do not see

he is burning
his house is burning
the flames reflect off of
your glass eyes
unshaken
unshattered
unhuman

his mother cries
you frown and turn away
his daughter calls for him
you cover your ears
your lips drip
condolences and platitudes
your heart is wrapped

in the privileges of comfort
your brother is but a stranger
irrelevant
inconvenient
the ash of

his body chokes

the sky 
of another place
and yours is clean
you do not share 
the same Sky
you do not share 
the same Womb
your Mother cries
you frown and turn away

your siblings do not look like him
but their hearts do
they are screaming
they are clawing at your walls
they will not let you sleep
you close your doors
and cuss at them
through gritted teeth

your house shakes
their howling
haunts your ears
and binds your chest
and envelops your heart
they are screaming
spitting blood
your body shakes
at the sounds of their wrath
and your windows break in

and you open your mouth

and you say

his name.
 

Numa Sarker is a freelance writer and social change advocate based in Sydney.