Mathematics

Mukul Dahal

Poet Mukul Dahal

When you clasped my hands, then spread a linen

on the bed of my room, you hardly knew

that you had to face mathematics.

You say: the bills this month have drowned

us, and what shall we do to your university fee?

I say ‘look at the roses in the yard,

ah ! their pretty faces.’ you lose your temper at me,

‘stop kidding, all these years

have been a joke,

’10 hours a day, 6 days, even seven,

over 60 hours a week,’ a grin

on my face cannot pull you out of these sums.

I slip into the memory, the day I said I would fly

with those wings stuck to my shoulders,

you believed I would land you in the world of miracles.

But through these tired hours,

you chew numbers, your fingers

move as you sink your days in sums.

‘The amounts of debt have worn wings,’

you mumble in sleep, as you travel

in dream across oceans to cuddle our young one,

who is tossing numbers in kindergarten.