I stand atop a giant waterfall,
in my sharpest bikini, hair pulled back,
stretched, ready.
You? the gorilla glue
under my feet,
keep me in place,
firm and unyielding.
So I bend my knees, wiggle my toes,
fruitless attempts you say,
it doesn’t change my drive
to leave you:
a parasite whose stringy fingers travel my core,
eating away every ounce of light.
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.
Two vacations, both alike in dignity, In fair Springfield (where we lay our scene) From annual girls trips to surprising spouses, Where civilian illness and
In the heart of Del Ray, Alexandria there is a retro-chic southern-ish restaurant called Evening Star. When you walk in, after you look for
I am after that high, the one that resides at the opening of two souls who slices through the skin beyond the flesh to the