< Back to Contents

Divyaa Kumar

A Modern Prometheus

Here on the border
we are like frankensteins pieced together
from various dead traditions

our face is a fine riot
hands a coup d’état
our hair the curled lines on maps that state
these houses belong in seperate countries

and these purple mongrel tongues bite out
dead teeth tiny pillars in our mouths
a shelter for refugee languages
a compound vocabulary

it will die in our chests
we will be the last people tethered
to these creole tongues
pour out from the slits in our stomachs

spill out blended blood
the fetus of some future reality
clots heavy with interpretation
and broken into pieces shattered open

for the eagle hands of pale men
unraveling the entrails of our heritage
plane miles and DNA
hyphenated names and distance traveled

and our joints crumble with obligation
the collective weight of our own upward mobility
water the earth with our ichor and grow
bold offspring for this cruel mandate

on the border here
children born for this awful purpose
we are like frankensteins
pieced together from various dead traditions

and they will be taken from us
like looted treasure
and all we will have left
is the air.

Divyaa Kumar is a recent graduate from the University of Auckland, studying Fine Arts and English. Their studies inform both their artistic and writing practices, which often explore themes of diaspora, the body, languages and heritage. They enjoy beaches in the winter, second-hand clothes and petting stray cats.