Thursday, March 28, 2024

Poetry

Devika Basu

The Touch Last night I woke up to a dream. Foam in the sea trying to catch time in myriad forms; my limbs drenched in waves my hands outstretched. A dream touching the timeless Alone The street lights greet me in benevolence when I look at the night with a watchman’s eye. Traffic pauses to think how busy the road is, and I become...

Joan Leotta

The Widow’s Nights “Days are not so bad. My volunteer work. Lunch with friends. Gardening. All of these fill the daytime hours. But it is the nights— they are so long, so very long.” I don’t know how to respond. We smile at each other in a moment of silence. Then, she adds, “If you have any alterations you need done, bring...
Wargame Speak. Seek. Advance. Retreat. Say a word. A thought or two. Sing for me. You know you want to. Canoe down the river. Climb up the waterfall. I’ll be here when you get back. Waiting to give it all. Or maybe I’m not here. I’m deep-sea diving somewhere. I’m searching for...
THE LIGHT SINKS LOW Here, the light sinks low as a meandering river, into the threshold of my windows when I bake half-grown weeds. My nails are black with smoke. I clean the air around me with my overgrown hair. My kitchen sink is on the other side of the green balcony. It tells me the story of a...
Pinakbet A dish I watched my grandma cook with zest. I was six or seven. Bitter gourd because I’m diabetic, my yearns for sweets squash-yellow. Canola oil sizzles, the air adorned with garlic expressions, wafts of red onion. Drizzles of black pepper, and I wonder if this spice will let me live longer. Eggplant will tell me if...
PLAYMATE As kids, you and I Loved red paper lanterns And exquisite Japanese dolls. In winters, we decorated Our flower vases With chrysanthemums the color Of tiny pink cakes. In summers our fathers Took us to drink Green mango sorbet At the same quaint little joint. Springs and autumns were The times for new clothes During festivals as even trees Turned fashion-conscious And flaunted their...
Sea-Smart Lion has your tongue A fool sold you pride Buyer’s remorse when eagles scratched three eyes If you only have one bullet better make sure that it’s pure silver If you’re bound to draw your sword just promise me that you won’t drop it Tiger has your tell-tale A spell cast your path Sweetest reward when whales do higher math If...

Manu S Kurup

Tarmac Labyrinth Have you ever forgotten a road only to travel through it years later? The old smell of it coming back, the same branches leaning towards same shadows designing it weaving nets The same emptiness and potholes. Doesn’t it make you reminisce about the things you passed? Left behind? Glanced at and Ignored? If you haven’t tried to recollect the stops you made...

Jake Tringali

the authenticity of my butt i now hear that the authenticity of my butt is in question who are these doubters, these trolls naysaying, behind anonymity well, i stand here today and tell you my butt is authentic unadultered, genuine american male ass this is not some cheap foreign knock off no booty magic here, no $5000 enhancements no fat...
GALLERIES IN THE NIGHT Abandoned by all kindly lights To gnash their teeth In penumbras of their own making, What half-bitten talk Peoples the dark galleries Between masterpiece and masterpiece, Restrained from lawless combat By gilt-edged police Or the garth of mortar? The greatest allegories of art Are secret journals kept By that gossip Night Whom no historian of art consults As they...

Tuhin Sanyal

The Final Draft I've started living after my death! I was killed Some four years back— Stabbed and drowned! ’Twas a shallow stream; I quivered out, (Ah! Blessed ghoul!) Was yet again Earth-bound With the hope Of new love And assassins For my carcass soul! I've lived and died Many times In my secular half And your non-religious (w)hole! Faced umpteen deaths, Say, in Mohenjodaro, And in the Mayan...

Ra Sh

THE DECLINING ART OF HEART MENDING Cannot deny that I have a brittle heart, weak and fragile like thin ice! As it happens with hearts that are volleyed back and forth, mine too drop and crack with a crunchy sound, like a bag of wafers. Now, you know that girls make the best cardiologists. The Heart is...