Right Door
You chose right! The more creative, intuitive, artistic, non-verbal, emotional, and imaginative brained. Here’s my more personal work, little less from the brain and a little more from the heart. Leaning right, nonetheless.
Grief, In All Shapes And Sizes
one of the most unexpected places i found grief was in the weight of our study bedroom door. it grew roots so firmly into our marble floors that i could hear it wail every time i opened its door.its hair drifted into cobwebs that clung to crannies across my room, so...
Saving You A Seat
Acquired Taste
God, To the Common Woman
my god is so tangible, so near. it rains and it sprouts as an egg. it can touch, and it can cry. it breathes and it interacts. yet his requires passage, prayer and letters. i cannot deny its beauty, and i love to watch him glow within it. he reverts to a little boy to...
Snow
a snow-draught country's admiration for snow is its incarnations,such as a succession of dust that tumbles within a beam of light,and the bed of cotton pods ripened at the seams,or the drizzle of rain caught to hair that turns silver,when it falls in a flitter like a...
A Hint of Jasmine
she hovers over two men on a bike beside me. i watch her pull at their noses between the index and thumb of her fingers. i fidget as i await her arrival toward the open window of my cab. instead, she walks over, cranes her neck just enough to wave and say, “hi madam”,...
A Drunken Dance
she held me upright on the grass,at our feet lay remains of white flowers, raat ki raaniwe swayed, or danced and i told her she reminded me of the moon.
Father
caress, his wrinkled finger along the lobe of her ear,earrings dangling, lingering silver.silvered moon, crescent and virtually extinct,extinction of her perfume as they dance,dancing, my mother in the lead.leading father, his fingers round the fabric, feel its...
Uncle
from a hint of petrichor on its collision with the dirt,to a mumble in the streets and a damp sidewalk,i conjure your memory. i imagine you, only a boy enslaved in the body of a man, as he guides his niece down a memory,hauntingly familiar.in awe of unscathed...
Mother
she told me i look beautiful when i cry.flushed cheeks of velvet and puddled eyelids,did i really look beautiful mother? at my feet saw an orbit of tears pooled beyond a horizon,the pale waters distorted, but i finally looked like you.to watch my reflection in the...
Dream
her toes tease the pull my feet lay idle on.i am drawn by almond clefts that claim eyes,saw a scene i can’t recall. i want to touch her, is she soft?or are her fingertips calloused with the earth’s dirt she doesn't bother shed? i crouch to her level, fumbling for a...
Dinner Table Chatter
the far corner of an extravagant house sits a round table for four, but with three guests today, they pull out a few extra chairs. placed on a straw mat, a ceramic plate of Sindhi curry and rice; my favourite. i pick at it with a fork, until the conversation piques my...
Letter On Her Back
in a moment such as this, i entertain a fleeting thoughtso dense that i am overwhelmed.where she asks me to hold her to sleep, and i think i could quite simply die here and not mind it at all. i wonder why i’d think such a thing, but it’s not a thought to...