1922
She said she never had boyfriends.
But she also said something about
a tulip growing in her garden of daisies –
some unplanned turns that knocked her
perfectly clean, white socks out from
right below her small feet.
Tag: Paakhi Bhatnagar
How Can I Feel?
Every edge that I jump from; every memory that I try to bury within the freckled folds of my unkempt bedsheets; every word that I take back and fill my half-empty stomach with (never not empty); all comes back like gruel on the back of a bathroom sink. I hear Read more
Too Fat to Drown
A distorted girl, too round around the edges no numbing mind still embedding into the malleable mush that her fat, clammy fingers cannot hold yet. But let us still stuff an oversized expectation of casual conformities, forgotten deformities into the thick folds of her feeble soul. Running and glazing, two Read more
Of Waves of Reminiscence
I swear I heard the sun burn something alive under the ocean. I heard a scream just as I lit the matches to a wooden coffin with no body inside to keep it warm. My sister’s hair was always braided, and when those brown strands came undone, so did my Read more
The Nuances in Time
Suddenly. I am intelligently intoxicated. Rushing. This hollow city has over-crowded. Enigma. I stay blind, but my eyes open. Serendipity. I speak and I wound my throat. Time and time again I fill these voids with an echo for a chance to prove myself. Time ages me; and like a Read more
Cat in the Cold
Crib about jetlag. Binge eat on a flight serving oily fries. Hang on trees bungee jump and throw up on your car seat. Kill time and watch flashlights under water. Douse in gasoline, lithe and smooth and green. Suck on tangerine Make sense of your friend’s cold coleslaw. Served in Read more
Presence in Absence
You are an omnipresent cold embrace, that keeps me shivering through the empty nights. You are the dawn of day and the moon, that blinds me and keeps me awake. You are a ceaseless string of memories in my lucid dreams; and the jolt of somnambulism. You are a sinking Read more
I Am Eating
Empty and white; slowly stripping down to collarbones and shiny shoes that look nice with her thinning silver gown. Grown to adore those cold feet and sleek ridges that adorn the backs of a hundred pale faces on paper. Scarred and hushed; lips quivering like the soul in her teeth, Read more