Inside
a pool forms,
slow, deep.
Like walking through a juicer, the liquid is squeezed out
Into a tall glass of sweet truth that no one can see clearly.
So the glass sits, ignored on the counter–mold forming at the edges
A tall glass filled to the brim, abandoned, spoiling, fully alone.
Sonia Chintha is an Indian American writer who lives in the Washington DC area. She blogs, writes poetry, and fiction. She is also an English teacher who believes that our experiences teach us more than any test. She is the founder and co-editor of Good Little Girls.
I try to walk Straight across Each step I place gently forward Focused and pure Genuine simple It feels straight It feels right It feels
A summer thunderstorm drenched everyone on the street. A Johnny Cash song strummed from the tiny unseen speakers. A barely-there draft of wind greeted us
I.
Minutes
into that first class –
two and a half full
decades since she’s done
anything like this –
she has to admit
there is a kind of poetry:
the manipulation of numbers,
a focused search
for the pattern
that will represent it
all.
When I met my husband, I was 31 years old and he was 24. My experience dating men his age was light and forgetful. Still,