after Sinead Overbye
the way the days are peeling away now
is the same way they did before we got here.
yesterday, i bumped into a drone at a festival.
its face, a telegram from my great grandfather.
& because there’s a synchronous touch to events,
the moments come to us unseparated.
in this one, as his mother’s only son
my great grandfather is still being born
in the same hospital my father would later meet
my mother in. at the same time, my mother
has just given birth to me. she takes a picture
with her phone & sends it to my father,
who is worlds away from home.
& somewhere still,
the invention of the first mobile phone
is being debated upon. time dissolves
& we are a billion light years deep
into the future. i speak & my voice travels
faster than light. i speak & a drone floats
on the spine of my words. through time travel,
we wrap memories around our fingertips. in one,
i am sitting on a bench, watching my father
kneel to propose to my mother in the same garden
she would later die in. & at the same time,
i am waving my grandfather goodbye
at the shore of the mediterranean sea. at the same
time, we never get to the shore
because the ship never arrives. time telescopes
& my mother is still alive, taking a flying car
to harvest water from clouds. & at the same time,
we feed the sky to climate change. time telescopes,
the future mirrors the past. the present, a gold
rotting in our palms. & at the same time,
i am riding a fire-breathing unicorn to my sister’s
700th birthday party. we pour dragon milk
into paper cups & toast to the uselessness
of time. excuse me. i’m sorry. i think i missed
something. i mean, Bhabi, what year is it again?
© 2022 Abu Bakr Sadiq