I now want to re-learn alphabet
Wiping off traces of the old one
From a slate of child’s memory
Using spit with which kids wipe
The alphabet writ over and over.
How I miss teacher’s long gown
And the lime tree that had stuck
To alphabet memory as a smell
And the crows dropping pebbles
In pots of increasing water level
As auditory experience on water.
“f” now sounds adult and vulgar
Not a sound of sandalwood paste
We slapped on boyish foreheads
As lips reverently came together
Like they were hands in namaste.
I want to re-learn the whole thing.