By Gigi Krembs
For Babaji.
My hands disappear.
In my burnt jean pocket.
I find the Taj Mahal.
It lays in my wrinkled hand.
Cool to the touch. Dimples of light seep through. The white marble holds me.
Among the trees with windows of waffles.
My Babaji is playing hide and seek.
With a girl whose cheeks are filled with pollen. She is wearing a dress made of fluttering hummingbird wings. She has golden maple syrups for hair.
And an orchestra for a brain.
Prelude in C Major.
The white piano keys are still.
Indented with Babaji’s frail fingers.
Headlines of newspaper say.
Pigeons waddle like him.
Babaji?
After you go,
Will we still play hide and seek?
I’ll look
I’ll seek
I’ll wait
With an orchestra for a brain,
Pigeons play violin.
Trees hum.
Waffles sing.
And even the Taj Mahal dances.
Author Bio
Gigi Krembs
Gigi Krembs is a junior studying English with a concentration in creative writing at the University of San Diego. Her poetry draws readers into richly textured worlds, weaving themes of memory, heritage, and sensory depth. In “Whispers of the Taj,” she explores intergenerational bonds and the delicate interplay of memory, while “Salt on Salt” delves into the complex, layered nature of human connection. Her work reflects a curiosity about identity and emotion, blending vivid imagery with introspective reflection. Gigi dedicates her work to exploring the artistry of language and the nuances of human experience, using her unique voice to bridge personal experience with universal emotions.