Arms outstretched, I twirl
my skirt flies ballooning into perfect waves
I tilt my chin towards the blue parachute above me
Daffodils
Buttercups
Roses
Petunias
Me
Together we twirl
We are light, gleaming
We are green, sprouting
We are air, breathing
Wildly graceful curves like the waves of my skirt
Divinely Right
My gold-plated footprints mark the path with raw truth.
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.
For two days leading up the New York trip, I sat in anxiety. I was to go with a friend I knew well, a friend
“You got fat,” he said. “You got fat, grandpa,” I say but I know it’s not true, he’s not fat am I? When was the
Fire limned with resentment, eating up the air until I choke— this is my anger, gaslit, bewildered. No longer able to tell who should be
She peck, peck, pecks rhythmically drumming a beat that fills our upstairs. It’s sharp and sudden, making me panic. I listen closely, following it to