Poetry
Bad Woman
I feel my mouth go dry in terror whenever I hear a cricket. (Denise Duhamel) I have lived in the front yard all my life.Like..
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Poetry
Showing 433-456 of 681 pieces
Poetry
Ma
The Sukshma Series is a first-hand account of an educated woman of post-colonial India reflecting on how the social and political set-up of the country defined the status of an Indian woman.
Poetry
In Nani’s House
I push my weightagainst the sturdy swing-doorof Nani’s house.My eyes catch white and grey: Nana’s pebble gardenwhere we would discoverfat pieces of rock. Khadiya. We would..
Poetry
the night jaygopal found a swastika on his window
in my dream, my brain talks about brainsbeing more or less the same, resembling kidney beans, sprouting web-like dendrites, wired for synaptic connection,passing signals cell to cell through axons,rosette-tipped, purring like..
Poetry
Yet Leafless, The Tulip Tree Readies to Flower
The blooms have each waited inside a small, tight bud all winter long. Each a sex-nub, a tender, excitable mound of tree-flesh rousing to sunlight’s..
Poetry
A First Poem
It would be so easyTo be lost hereIn your armsIn the windBy the river. I don’t hear the hawk,Though you do. All I hear is the Almost-roarOf..
Poetry
markings on the wall
When we packed our things from paint-chipped cupboards, and made peace with stains of wine on the carpet- too permanent to move out with us;..
Poetry
Still Life of You, Remaining
quiet & beloved memory—serpent swallowing mouse wholea vibration of the tail—warning of appetiteI collect your worst flaws in a jar, colorfulI taste them—candy, I loathe..
Poetry
It is a good day!
The Sukshma Series is a first-hand account of an educated woman of post-colonial India reflecting on how the social and political set-up of the country defined the status of an Indian woman.
Poetry
Fool’s Errand
Not far from near future, we bendlight around corners. Down periscope.Up and away from you all. Take me at my word: they’ve outlawed affection.We lock in,..
Poetry
Excuse me, your privilege is showing
You and I flush it down the toilet many times a dayBut it crawls out wrecking our just-mopped floors.Reeking. ‘Bloody hell!’, we shout in lingua..
Poetry
A Yellow Iris
Van Gogh stops byIn my garden. Death feels chilly so he wants a morning back on Earth. I told him I admired his iris paintings. He thanked me, didn’t..
Poetry
Headless Martyrs
Headless martyrs are riding caribou intothe international forest again. Fairies sippingnectar from hyacinths chuckle at this scene. They remember why bushmen lick beehiveswith honey-coated tongues..
Poetry
Skin Under Water
draw a bath.with crayons?how does one color water? clear does not do justice,the glisten of droplets on skin.I’ll draw us a bath, you said, and I sawan..
Poetry
Silk Veil
The Sukshma Series is a first-hand account of an educated woman of post-colonial India reflecting on how the social and political set-up of the country defined the status of an Indian woman.
Poetry
Nothing Survives
Words leap over words Trounce each other Silence survives. Time runs over time Flatten each other Memory survives. Pages pile over pages Bury each other..
Poetry
Flowering
There is a sunflower erupting through the simian crease of my right palm. I shed layer after layer of salty skin till the petals glow..
Poetry
In the City of Panorama
Some trees are male, some female; Our house had four of them, And though I circled them every day as a kid— Looking for any..
Poetry
Two Scenes
1. A man reads the newspaper as if his son would turn up on page three. The chaiwallah makes a cutting, not because a half..
Poetry
Burnt Brown
As far as I can see, the trees brown beneath fall’s frost. Mother’s skin is marred by age spots as death’s knell calls frost. Forests..
Poetry
Classical Chinese Poems from Song Dynasty
In this section we present a series of Chinese Classical poetry translated by Gary Young.
Poetry
Kitchenette
The Sukshma Series is a first-hand account of an educated woman of post-colonial India reflecting on how the social and political set-up of the country defined the status of an Indian woman.
Poetry
Anthill at the mailbox post
There comes a point for us allwhen more peoplewe know have diedthan still live.You know that in a churchsomewhere a crowdplays Bingo while in anothera..
Poetry
Stilettos
You should never wear stilettos, they are evil, my mother used to say. Her other life advice included, Do not wax your arms, or shape..