What kind of papers? Will this portrait do?
My aunt had drawn it on a whim, freehand,
many years ago. I was twenty two.
The eyes are the same. You must understand –
I wasn’t written into the family tree
since that would mean rubbing me out again
upon marriage. We’re flexi-identity.
Daughters. Wives. A multitude of women
each one of us. Okay, what about this?
My father’s letter, mailed from Najafgarh,
the postmark is clear, the name and address.
Will this be proof enough to consider?
Well, that’s it. I can’t show you anything else
except old letters, treasures, some torn bills.