The Gloves

To discard a life is easy.
It takes no great planning-
You can walk right out of your skin and not
Notice it for years: how
You store jars of sunlight against
The damp, compulsively;
How your moulted tongue stumbles
Over words that wrapped your childhood
In Tollywood candy floss.
Contrary to what they tell you,
A loss of being is not accompanied
By a loss of weight.
In fact, to compensate,
You add to yourself, little by little.
It's called layering.
Until here you are at the edge of the road,
Heavy in your winter coat,
Suddenly marvelling at the miracle of your
Knitted burgundy fingers, flesh
Turned inside out,
Curling, uncurling.

-- Ayesha Chatterjee (reprinted without permission from The Guardian)