On the bank of the Seine
in the heath and heart
of the sun’s playground—
that’s where we lay.
Our heads rest on a cushion of plight
as we sink further into the fields
of lush river violets, violets
smooching our petaled cheeks—
blanketing our freckles from the frigid
blistering air, softening
our cracked lips. We smear
violet husks across our faces
until they crumple, shriveling
from an absence of light
in these mallows of mid September
gloom, their ominous purple filling
the smiles across our faces before
their sweet sugar plum scent could
even frolick into our pores. We are
lifeless—but we weren’t always. For years
we smelled of the sun’s honeyed lemons
and orange meringue pie, raindrops
and gifts of gold. Our eyes shimmered
in the leathery moon’s shadows—
a crisp December glistening on the horizon.
At the peak of our ecstacy, we giggled
until cancer’s rind of tree bark
wrapped its treacherous ridges around
our lungs, punted splinters down our throats
to quench our laughter. Somehow
the wavering constellations illuminate
the ball point grasses’ narrow, finite hallways
before they retract into the night sky’s
lustrous black hole, the one trapping
each dusty auburn wish in an endless tunnel—
for more years of violet picking.
for more lemon scented sundays spent
basking in the sun’s generous warmth.
for more time—because the light was never ours.
Kaviya Dhir
Kaviya Dhir is a student poet based in Texas. As a junior in high school, she has been recognized by Georgetown University and the National Scholastic Art & Writing Awards for her work. She was recently named a finalist for the 2024-2025 Houston Youth Poet Laureate designation.