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.
We only talk in brief text messages, can go months upon months in silence, I do not know where you live even, no address, no
What I’ve learned is alarming my insides and yet when you notice it in me, I flutter with pride. Could I do it, genuinely? Yes,
In the end, when the rough winds slow and clouds slide away, Warmth returns and I can get strong again and again and again. Today