Arya Kambhamapti

Once, we believed in the Tooth Fairy,
a girl in glitter with sparkly wings,
who would sneak in the dark,
to swap teeth for quarters,
as if they were treasures,
as if our childhood decay
was worth more than gold.

Am I the rainbow or the rain that makes it?
You ask, but it’s me asking, too.
Do I paint the sky with color,
or am I the prism that bends the light?

One voice says: You are a song played in a minor key,