This Heat Poem by Suzanne Hayasaki

Here I sit,
Laced up in whale bone
Weighed down in crinoline
Desperately wishing I could strip
And feel the air on my skin.

I look on in envy
As women’s hips sway by
Draped in brightly-dyed silks
That swish deliciously
As they make their way
To the marketplace.

I see how their dark skin soaks in the sun,
Their thick braids rope down their backs,
Their white teeth flash as they laugh
And I envy them their freedom of movement.

When I walk outside, I must take delicate steps.
I must wear gloves and carry a parasol.
The sun must not touch my pallid skin.
The heat is no reason to change my apparel.
I must appear the lady that I was raised to be.

And so I am trapped
Within my corset stays
Within the walls of this estate
Within the circle of our acquaintance
While an alluring world swirls around me.

I watch you through the cracks in the lattice
As you play aimlessly in the untamed greenery
That threatens to repossess our well-kept compound
And I wonder what it would be like to pass entire days
Unsupervised, unoccupied, unconscious of the exact passage of time
And both my envy and my fascination grow.

Eventually, you notice me.
At first, you pretend you don’t,
But then your curiosity is aroused
And you come closer.

I admire your wiry frame.
You take in my ribbons and lace.
I attempt a greeting in Hindi.
You smile and try out some English.

But just then, my mother appears
And just as quickly you disappear
And I am left languishing
In the heat and ennui.