my hair spindles out, dark and long in moss-eaten water,
my air leaking out of mouth. tell me, if i wake, will you
have hewn out the ruined parts of me? if i wake, will
the rot have spread?
drowning is resurrection is ritual is slaughter.
sit me down in a throne of coral and braid strings of
pale-petaled flowers into my hair and avert your eyes
from the lines against cold, wet skin. weave my legs into
a tail with scales made lucent mirrors.
every metamorphosis has its casualties.
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Kavi Kshiraj is a queer, Indo-American poet found in New Jersey. They spend time on hobbies such as writing, D&D, and their various identity crises. They have been published in journals such as The Hellebore, Vagabond City Lit, and Nectar Poetry.