The longing for you is almost holy. Warm you sleep; your eyelids closing are the night coming for me. Inescapable love of lives, my lingering ache is the origami crane tucked in your breast. Doing undoing wills and possibilities: with each breath, life raises itself and with every exhale it returns. As it is with all…
Tag: Poetry
Book Review: How Many Countries Does The Indus Cross by Akhil Katyal
How Many Countries Does The Indus Cross by Akhil Katyal My rating: 5 of 5 stars Sitting dumbfounded after having read this whole book in one go. Such a conundrum. Should I take bite-sized morsels and leave some for later? Or ask for the avalanche? The avalanche. Always the drowning. Always the surrender. As…
It is very quiet, very tender today
Lover look, it is finally overcast The sky is heavy-bosomed Breasts burdened with unfed milk Four o’clock is six o’clock, five-thirty is seven The light closes so softly on the day Everywhere the trees wait, wait Birdsong minimises to a hush Snakes seek respite in the dank dark of fallen leaves There are goosebumps…
Vulnerability is my superpower
Day One: Lately, I find myself gravitating towards the music of women, books written by women, the poetry of women, women-centred films, information about and by women. I find my world become calmer. Stronger. More inspired. Hope flowers. Day Two: Do you remember reading that thing saying, “Do one thing every day that scares…
Book Review: The Sea in You by David Whyte
The Sea in You: Twenty Poems of Requited and Unrequited Love by David Whyte My rating: 5 of 5 stars Reading David Whyte is not unlike praying. He is easily a messiah for our troubled times, bringing with him loaves of compassion, and fishes of insight. David’s writing is a call to that which is…
Your name in my mouth
Where can I go with your name in my mouth? It has sewn me shut with no word to offer. I cannot, anymore, ask for a cup of tea, Say hello when I pick up the phone, Respond to my own name called out. I am the dumb mute that denies the world. To say…
All the world’s words are yours.
There are some words I never want to hear again. This is one of them. This word is you. This word spells your name, only in different letters. Letters that belong to an alphabet of a language I do not speak anymore because the only other speaker no longer speaks to me. It is a dead…
Quarantine
Protect the softest parts of you. The parts that look like hide but are as tender as kitten paws not yet touched the earth. Protect all the tired people in you. The ones who sigh, unable to bear another day. Who look too eagerly toward the ends of things. For whom, to be unseen and unremembered…
Reading broken, writing drunk: an open letter to Clementine Von Radics
Your books are maps. This is what I understood. I never went anywhere without a poem lest I lose myself in places where girls like me should not be lost. Places like the cleavage. Or clavicles. Places like love. Or worse – possession. Places like wounds that must be tended to, and places…
part-broken, part-whole 