As a person of colour born in Sri Lanka, my identity is under constant surveillance.
Man considers this terrestrial photograph like they would their own animal reflection.
After I scream, I turn on the radio. Toxic plays and I lie back down.
She breathes. This is to be whole again.
“I come from a family of witches.”
Why are you brown? You’re a brown person. Why?
Numerous times I
hacked off my sharp edges
carved myself into a new person
sanded my skin till it was smooth
They’re coming for our Countries
for our spirits
and our identities
I am reminded of the time a man once said jokingly, un bi yen thiak
a ‘joke’ we too often hear
We’re not going to let you win.