Kinjal Johri: “A Love Like an Excavation”

Before I go over I search up
how to kiss, practice discreetly on my hand.
Because I have no idea.
Because if he leans in I want to be the girl
he thinks I am. We talk of George Harrison and Thai Horror
and the way desire hollows a body out, turns the soul into a sinkhole
hungry for a love like an excavation. I want an affection
that lingers under my nails and in the ridges of my shoes and
I search for it in the scratch of his chin and
the crevices on his palm, unearth it on my way
in a crowded bus, during the ad break in the bathroom,
in the thrumming through my body.
I wonder if love is just this:
a constant rehearsal.
A jawbone mistaken for treasure.
The traces of my mouth, still on my hand.

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Kinjal Johri has lived in Singapore all her life. Find more at kinjaljohri.carrd.co.