- 17 -

babe
Aish Thamba

i called you babe, 
accidentally, of course...
perhaps it was a slip of the tongue
just as much as your fingers 
slip between mine or perhaps
your shoulder: a steady 
warmth against the light of 
day. 

i hope you didn’t notice, 
how i played it off with a laugh,

a casual shake of my head, 
a spasm of my mouth since

my words are meant to be 
casual—slip on your shirt 

in the hallway and fall
into the bathroom with

me.
yes, casual like that. 

maybe tell me your gods
and i will tell you my fears, 

the oldest ones are the worst—they 
lurk in the wallpaper and comfort me

when you are gone. but don’t worry,
this is all a temporary 

inconvenience. 

leave the kitchen teapot on while
you go, and maybe i won’t watch you 
leave. i am driving in the rain and giving you
my notes and perhaps between the pages, you
can smell it on me.

babe, 
i have never called anyone that before.

it’s not something i mean… i am 
afraid it is something i mean too much



- 18 -

babe

and too earnestly—to be used more often:
when you eat your orange marmalade, 

when your eyes crinkle, 
when we yell, 

when we hurt, 
when we feel. 

babe, 
i wish i could be more, 
i wish i could be myself 
these days. it’s harder on me
or maybe it’s harder on you. 
i don’t know—the clock ticks faster every 
day. 

babe,
come back. 

slip into bed with me. 
forget about the light

of day.