all the pieces
they add up—to desires, deep yearnings of belongings that are not mine to have
they hover, slap me with icy fingers,
each time I look in the mirror
so I follow the clouds, eyes exhaling hunger—an empty vessel, I sweep the sky strapping myself to each cloud
an empty embrace of pieces I will not possess
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.
Warm rays cut through the sunroof onto my arm; it was a forty degree February afternoon. The road was oddly silent and empty. Neil and
Deadlines are closer than they appear, I was always told in high school; I used to hate the phrase, the sentiment. Deadlines are closer than
the trumpet sounds–high like a solo bird crossing the sky the notes float out arching in the air urging you to move heads slowly turn