Inside
a pool forms,
slow, deep.
Like walking through a juicer, the liquid is squeezed out
Into a tall glass of sweet truth that no one can see clearly.
So the glass sits, ignored on the counter–mold forming at the edges
A tall glass filled to the brim, abandoned, spoiling, fully alone.
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.
I am–but damn I try hard not to be– I am yet anotha girl manipulated into—cornered into enabling your male privileged ass That one who
When I was a little girl, I longed for luscious flowing long hair that danced in the wind and cascaded down my back because I
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