Small Things

Nilanjana Bhattacharjee

I want to fill my day with small things.
Brown letter envelopes; their mouths no longer glued
but left with a sheen of the glue that was
a promise of a message inside. 

Pressed flowers that I didn’t forget to collect,
from gardens where books were read like I forget now-
giving into the cliché because of the world’s collective memory
vouching for how delightful  they are to find
between unsuspecting pages – ruled and blank.
I want to keep the smallness of a pressed flower,
instead of worrying about the ‘bigness’ of what it could mean. 

I want to fill my days with small things. 

Changing pillow covers – as a gentleness to the bed
that holds my body, even when I’m alone.
I signify the absence of people
with the dignity of being remembered,
while the surfaces holding
the shapes and cells of my body remain insignificant. 

I wish I could fill my day with small things,
instead of the un-things,
the nothings,
and somethings.