The blame—it stacks high, an unyielding tower of sharp pieces of stone.
You assemble and build and construct…
So focused on this up surd structure
So consumed by the long hours you put in to lay each stone just right for all your viewers to see
but you are blinded—
blinded by the work, unable to see that each shard of rock has your name on it too.
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.
A break in a routine and I am jostled like the snow in a snow globe, tiny particles scatter apart, it’s
Illustration by Jill Kimura The Back Alley of The Subconscious by Celeste Bloom when you’re homesick, you can close your eyes and hear the whispers
A year ago, when I was working at a small insurance company, my work bestie invited me to a vision board party. We were having