Some nights when the clock strikes midnight. Some days in the early hours of dawn, when I am asleep and also awake, I feel an intense icy wind stir.
Like the inside of a vast cave that resides inside a forest, the wind fills my bare insides, stirs the sharp vacant space.
In these times, the hollowness is palpable; a forever stamp of what this body will never bear.
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.
Pop, pop, pop The kernels push the lid aside, Pop, pop, popping Bursting to the top, like greedy animals, they push each other out of
Hash. The immaculate brunch plate: potatoes, onions, seasonings to your liking, veggies, meat, and eggs. Anytime I see hash on a brunch menu, I order