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Aahana Parthasarathy Poem
Anthropology studies human societies,
human culture, humankind, human us.
You were the anthropologist that sifted through
the baubles of life I mired in the fissures
of the way I spoke impedimented English.
But you were my diction that weaved between
the w’s I mispronounced and the ph’s I forgot to shape.
I reached for the dove's excalibur to accept that you, my love,
have bewitched the melody against the carnage that consumed
all my adoration for you, only to be transfixed
by the Black Excalibur in your virgin hands.
And I had to relearn how to survive, how to stand,
resurrected from being a cold, dead man.
I am the Romeo that breathed first.
In the doomed book I refused the poison.
And you married Count Paris.
Our doom painted blue and red on human society.
Now the anthropologist observes purple remains
stained on the ink of dirty historical papers.
Copyright © Aahana Parthasarathy | Year Posted 2026
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