we believed the neighborhood voices
that said fair was most beautiful
before they brought the ointment
turmeric, yogurt, and honey
your face was buttermilk
under the nightlight
that one sideways molar, a diamond
once you fit in your father’s palms
when you arrived
a pink lotus
an uncle kept you in his jacket
and ran to the paddy field
that year of the big earthquake
everyone wanted to save you first
your mother still remembers the milk
flowing through your throat
paper thin
the year you were the most beautiful
when you swayed as you left the house,
all eyes were orbiting moons
there, three streets split near the temple
deeyas around the gods
fireflies at worshipper’s feet
your face, wheat fair, they said
and you hid your teeth
Nepal-born Anuja Ghimire (Twitter @GhimireAnuja) writes poetry, flash fiction, and creative nonfiction. She is the author of Kathmandu (Unsolicited Press, 2020) and two poetry books in Nepali. A Best of the Net and Pushcart nominee, she works as a senior publisher in an online learning company. She reads poetry for Up the Staircase Quarterly and enjoys teaching poetry to children in summer camps. Her work found home in print and online journals and anthologies in Nepal, U.S., the U.K., Scotland, Australia, India, and Bangladesh. She lives near Dallas, Texas with her husband and two children.