Two Poems By Kaviya Dhir
What Billows
I got my hands dirty today
while beating granite bare,
crouching down, resting
in a familiar whiskey puddle.
I bathe, collarbones mirroring
and shimmering, my pupils’ walnut glaze
after whispers of my grandpa’s passing
coddle me, in the privacy of my mother’s embrace.
I knew sweating temples and blistering
knuckles, gnarled tears, the body’s self-portrait
of labor—my grandfather was a hard worker
but when I encased my palms
in wispy ember, ash coated my mouth
with ethereal uneasiness. I wanted to
allow a foolish fire within me
to wither husks of anger away—How
could he leave so soon? yet all I could do
was bury my head beneath my hair
and concede to the rain falling
in whimpers beneath a drooping willow.
I wish I could evaporate
the rain, conjure the sun’s cozy comfort
in my friendly palms, search for a river’s edge
so I can peek over, paddle
and slosh and gaze through the torn silk, and see
the rippling Ganga as I work with what billows towards an end.
Climbing Up On the Way Down
Through my jade lens, I see
a little lamb spiral up
the base of Centennial hill,
weaving in and out of the roses
lining the base with marigold, violet.
I sweat bug spray and mist
that sizzles in dew as I trudge
through mud, through rain water–
I trudge and trudge, one splish
splosh short of embarrassing mud.
When I reach the base of the hill,
the swollen sun beats down
and the winter lamb trots away,
leaving a newly blossomed hope.
My heart pops unsteadily
through its ribbed bars
as I clutch the curious burst
of air in my throat, swallow
my fright with the tangy burn
of a seasoned mandarin slice
nicking my tongue.
I knew the climb
over Centennial hill
would be enchanted: wispy
hair kissing wispy clouds,
bluebirds beaking blueberries
as snakes slithered into
the neighboring bayou. I was
just another subject
of the mighty spiral, unable to help
feeling like I’m queen
of the world—my confidence
jeweling the pupils
of my crown, plating the collar
of my robe in sun-gold, the hills
earthing my hands with
their mouths—my body, my mind’s
utopia, gleaming like a pearl
in the night sky, beneath
the merciless moon’s swells.
But in this swampy summer,
knee-deep in the second hour
of fly swatting, of air
coddling, just beyond twelve–
my mouth hangs agape
to let the sun’s yolk
trickle down my lips, drool
shamefully glossing my chin—
I have succumbed to entities above.
I have succumbed to entities within.
The craven lamb I have become
scampers out of the sunlight.
I’m frozen, but all I want is warmth.
About the Author
Kaviya Dhir is a student poet based in Texas. Her work has been recognized by The Kenyon Review and the National Scholastic Art & Writing Awards, among others. She was recently named a finalist for the 2024-2025 Houston Youth Poet Laureate designation. Her work has appeared in Burningword Literary Journal, The Emerson Review, and elsewhere.