A flash of tree-skirt bounces off a barn wall
onto an old fence onto the svelte coat of a horse
finding itself in a meadow
then in a harness
en route to a moderate gallop cruising for daisies
and delphiniums too soon
the fields run into highways
Screeches shrieks
speed up or stay away
both fill its ears and lungs
with inquiries about unwelcome nostalgia or was it
the shadow of a rainbow puddle
ask where to visit on highways there are
no patches of grass no smells to limp on --
Speech steps in or was it a whinny meaning
why are you doing this meaning back off stay clear off
a peace you can’t have
not even in a poem or a space in a dream
turn your flanks your back to wherever else
because nothing else fits you
turn around then right take a right turn the images are
what they want to be and your family
wants to be named one by one.
Poetry
Right Turn | Gerburg Garmann
-
In The Mountain’S Heartbeat | Ranjani Neriya
By: Ranjani Neriyain the tinge of a valiant wickin this season of a thousand flowersit will never be dark in the house, the veiled silence of voices is everywhere the white mountain shields our grief fingers overlap on the tambura note for…
-
To write a poem about womanhood | Subarna Mohanty
By: Subarna MohantyTo write a poem about womanhood, you have to become a woman first. And to become one, you have to survive one of the world’s best-rehearsed rituals of stealing away a young girl’s girlhood by a touch in the shadows.…
-
The Lesson of Leaves | James T. Stemmle
By: James T. Stemmleat a time in my life a late phase of transition to eternal life during which my ambient thoughts are becoming more detached from reality giving me perspective seeing through things to their underlying significance egad I have become a…
-
I Want to Be Chai | Volha Kastsiuk
By: Volha KastsiukHere, next to the stone elephant at Kailasa temple,on the streets of Aurangabad,in the waves of the Arabic Sea,I will always be a brightshameful white sheetamong more practical brown.I will be bleached as a stainon the dark khadi fabric,unnatural shine…
-
Grown used to it | Ramanujam Parthasarathy
It was a malformed face with a twisted mouth, made worse by a fixed smirk on it. It was not a genetic disorder, the man was sporting it, just the way he sported a shirt with large brightly-coloured checks and…
-
Nightjar | Ananya Dutta Gupta
I have seen A nightjar now and then, A bird flying at night, Flying past at night, Something like a bird Flying past at night, Something flying past At night, Just when The headlights alighted On them. A head-on collision…
-
Casualty | Ananya Dutta Gupta
The Toto-wallah Asked for more. He made it sound Like a legitimate demand. Perhaps I was miffed not to hear, “Please, Sir, may I have some more?” As I got off, I gave a thirty. A gesture for me, A…
-
The Balcony at Coorg | Ananya Dutta Gupta
On first glance, The warblers at Ibni Seem the perfect role-models For free birds. They bide amid the bamboo grove, They bicker among the hibiscus, One can’t tell their home from their retreat, Their lodgings from their home. Are birds…
-
No Budgerigar | Ananya Dutta Gupta
I am an uneven bird, Quite contrary. All your cajole Lay heavy, unmoving, Upon my heart, My brooding, Incubating shut-eyed Hen of a heart, That won’t budge From the egg of torpor Toasting under Her warm underdown. Flights of freedom…
-
Swallow | Ananya Dutta Gupta
They put a swallow in a cage. It fought and fluttered, Squacked and scattered, And generally ran amok. And then they asked, Whatever got into you? The bars of the cage, She said. The bars are outside, They said. I…
-
A hand reaching out for another | Aditya Mishra
By: Aditya MishraLanes for the seekers who Stand over the shades Of our joy Go on for miles Pretty harmless but cold. Buildings and trains, Screams and horns, People falling off their bicycle People dying for their sport People toying with their…
-
The Inner Evil Bloke – Harshit Sahu
By: Harshit SahuOnce in a while, the tides turn high, And I go searching for you on the street. On a heavy night with sky cold and dry I ask with my creaking voice,”Has anybody seen her?” The lonely winds carry the…