my nails dig into the earth, fists full of brown soil grind into my skin,
on my knees, I scrape again and again, digging for a piece of me, a piece of you, a piece of peace
but all I hold is cold, wet, clay
all that I am is cold, wet, clay
all that you are is cold wet clay
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.
Illustration by Allie Olivares Grandma’s Legs by Darlene Campos My grandmother used to proudly tell me we had the same legs: ample, muscular, and powerful.
In the corner of my mind she resides, large heavy cloak, dark, deep-set eyes—a constant reminder Her inky black clothes spill easily, if I let
My very pregnant former belly dance teacher is front and center in her red costume shimmying fiercely with a wide-ass grin on her face and