Category: Uncategorized
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Limbs
A man without limbsgrapples with negativityto function properly. She is notjust my mother. The voracious nooksand cranniesof this househave been nudging me:who will tend to us, now?whose smile willwarm us up? In response totheir plea,I holler:who will lullmy insecurities to sleep?who will wipe my profuse tears? An obsessionwith a motheris different than thatwith a lover…
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Abba
Abba says:You’re the light of my universe So when the ache in the crevices of my lungs is filled to the brimHe says:Why is my daughter sad?How can my light be sad? My beloved AbbaThe days when your daughter forgets to don a smileAre the days when her excruciating past decides to strike her charred…
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It is March Again
It is March againwith drowsy Dahlias on my terrace swayingto the tune of the gentle zephyr As I hide my face under my thick blanketI realize that the piercing winter is departingwith wistful eyes that are moist with tearsruminating on what you put me through years ago This act of being a champion in forgiving…
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Post-Apocalyptic Yellow
The sky is weak yellow,watery light streaming down.I’d never thought our neighbor’s lawn –dry scratchy straw –could look yellower.A pale light blinks under their roof,rapidly signaling likesome forlorn spirit.A bright industrial light shines –the sky not bright enoughto be consideredday.Darkness pools in the windows.Do ghosts still wake?My blinds reflectthe color of the seeminglypost-apocalypticyellow sky. ABOUT…
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Blog Interview: Risha Chaurasia
For our first blog interview, we interviewed Risha Chaurasia, a teen author and blogger from India. How did you get to where you are today? How did you start? I grew up as an avid reader and practically spent my childhood with my nose in a novel. My grandmother also used to narrate bedtime stories…
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Deathly Desire
Dear Death,I want to greet you with open arms: I’ve been longing for you. Your blood is in my hands yet I do not remember the shape of you. Will you help me remember? Will your body ache for my touch? Will you shiver at the thought of me? I’ve been looking for you in…
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Palestine
Endurance flows in their veinsthicker than bloodall these grenades, bullets and gunstired of slacking their never-ending courageetched onthe walls of their heartis the cause—their history, their identity.Climates change, calenders change,but the spirit of Palestinianscan never be changedout of the ugliest mirrors of painthis land reflects the most beautifulimage of a warriorfrom the seeds of their…
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Mannequin Mountain
When I was thirteen years old, my Dad and I moved from our small apartment home in New York to an even smaller trailer in South Carolina. There were various reasons for bringing me along, depending on which parent you asked. Dad told me it was to spend more time together as he worked away from…
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Past Memories are a Poor Impression of a Stranger.
The only photo I have of youis mental and untrue,if every time our memories surfacea piece of you is warped for nostalgia’s sakeeventually, there will be a stranger in my head. I am the world’s biggest hypocriteI begged you to be Orpheus if he had more self-disciplineyet here I am, fingers curled around knowledge already…
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Tall Child
Sometimes I still am the child who never cried:both brand new and wearyscrewing fists into white-knuckled pacifiersseething with angerbefore she could even comprehend what it was. When I cry, my mouth shuddersat the taste of blooda ghost chews my bottom lip rawand pulls out old glassdrawing a new fingerprint, once again. It is true- I…
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