Vandana Kumar

The Voyeur Inside

I remember a locked door 
Against which a ten-year-old girl
Pressed her entire frame
A little above keyhole height  
The first time 
She heard her parents do things
The first time she heard
The mother moan  
And not in pain 

The moaning ended
The image lingered

Today the girl sits 
And watches a pregnant neighbour
Wondering what her ultrasound looks like 
If it’s a ‘Rosemary’s Baby’
Growing inside 

Another house to the left 
Has this woman in her early thirties
A Belle De Jour 
Husband slouched with briefcase
Unsuspecting 
In his 9 to 5 routine

The voyeur hasn’t left me 
The seeds, too deep inside
The ennui of our times
When every subway loaf
Across the globe
Is precisely 
The same size