Mercy
by Rita Mookerjee
The woman has eyes between blue & ice grey.
I feel them on me through a gap in the skincare aisle.
Once I saw a lion-tailed macaque, one of the old
world monkeys looking like something from a dream,
a puff of smoke with copper penny eyes. Glass separated
the macaque and me. A mercy, one that I don’t have in
the drugstore between the old woman and me. My father
spoke of this: the incredulous gawking. The scream of
where did you come from bottled in a stare. I can’t tell if
she wants to burst into tears or spit, if she wants to curse or pray.
I feel them on me through a gap in the skincare aisle.
Once I saw a lion-tailed macaque, one of the old
world monkeys looking like something from a dream,
a puff of smoke with copper penny eyes. Glass separated
the macaque and me. A mercy, one that I don’t have in
the drugstore between the old woman and me. My father
spoke of this: the incredulous gawking. The scream of
where did you come from bottled in a stare. I can’t tell if
she wants to burst into tears or spit, if she wants to curse or pray.
Rita Mookerjee is an assistant professor of Interdisciplinary Studies at Worcester State University. She is the winner of the 2023 Steel Toe Books Poetry Award and the author of False Offering (JackLeg Press). Her poems can be found in CALYX, Copper Nickel, Poet Lore, New Orleans Review, and the Offing.