My life has thinned out like a sheet of moist rice paper. A single drop of ink bleeds into an ever-expanding patch of night sky, while my remaining days shrink …
Category:
Poetry
my grandmother never swept the floors of our home at night striking my little hands if I picked up the broom she told me in Punjabi, Lakshmi is coming filling …
Custody First, misplace a word. Not the important ones. Something small: the name of a vegetable, a season, the bird that nested outside your grandmother’s window. Let convenience perform its …
bodies like old parchments, numb and cold minds like trash bins full of colours and critiques souls like invisible quivering dots in the dead night sky, there must be a …
I All the landscapes I have ever seen condense into a single drop of ink, merging water and sky into one. Facing the sea and the slow ignition of sunrise, …
The First Lesson I was only sixteen and his mother said stay in public — not to me — to him — but I heard it anyway the way you …
Exhale. erupt in a breath that is yours let chaos reign in a world that has always been silent about your pain. Be Too Much Too much body too …
1. The Estate The yard is vast, a park held in private hands. A tennis court, a pool, an outdoor bar breathing the expensive scent of sandalwood. She returns from …
Whenever she is unable to fall asleep She would snuggle herself In the heart of darkness, waiting For me to hold her tight From behind her back like light, but …
You ask me, while we stand in the rain (somehow, you managed to stay bone-dry), to tell you a story, any kind of story, but begin it with a day …
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