an explanation

Sara Kumar | Fall 2023

there’s a theory out there that the simplest explanation is usually the right one.
it‘s called occam’s razor and
i think it’s what you used to shave away my layers one by one,
shed away the extraneous –
is that why you strip me until i’m raw?
a search for simplicity?
is there clarity in
my viscera spilling onto the floor in front of you,
and other than that all i can offer you is blankness
an existential paralysis.

and you take these fragments of my disingenuous reality and
forge a mosaic that makes
divine depictions in stained glass windows cower in your awakening –
you simplify me.
i’m one dimensional, i’ve been commercialized,
become a product of your fantasy,
not quite artificial,
just rearranged.

i think in a past life i may have been the object of your obsession
maybe that’s how i died
and now in this lifetime
perhaps that’s why i chase the thrill of your haunt,
of your daunt
because obsession guarantees you’ll stay
and all i ever wanted was a companion.

it’s not your fault —
you’re just searching for an explanation too,
and deforming me into something that’s only legible to you, might just be the only way.