Parachute

BY DEEPA RAJAGOPALAN

a facemask turned upside down is a parachute, 
slowing us down as we descend 
into this inevitability. 

panic crawls down our windpipes 
sinking into our arteries, our intestines, 
our hypodermis, and even 
into the air sacs held by our lungs. 

which is also where the virus infiltrates 
swapping oxygen for fluid 
when something as commonplace as breathing 
becomes the burden than splinters us. 

they warned us but we 
never believed them. in through one ear, 
out through the other. on good days we still think 
it doesn’t apply to us. 

like compliant dreamers, we hold on 
to some version of reality, 
some normal: a place to be, as if it were 
an all-inclusive by the Caribbean. 

except it isn’t for sale 
and we have not arrived yet 
so hold on to your parachute 
fluff your lungs and 
burn those smiles into your eyes. 

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DEEPA RAJAGOPALAN was born and raised in a desert town in Saudi Arabia. She has since lived in India, the US, and Canada. She is the winner of the 2021 RBC/PEN Canada New Voices Award. She is an MFA candidate in Creative Writing at the University of Guelph and is a graduate of the Creative Writing program from the University of Toronto. She is an editor of Held magazine, and is the co-host and curator of the Emerging Writers Reading Series in Toronto. She is working on her first book, a collection of short fiction.