Swimming in a pool of crimson, she melts,
her pounding pelvis contracts: a 3 month reminder now (no longer monthly thanks to modern science) that these contractions, though similar, will never birth life.
so, she lays back, floats in the pulpy burgundy smoothie
free bleeding, free crying
wraps herself in the warm agony of a burning uterus and gushing grief
because some days you rise up
because some days you melt
pierced and achy.
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 inhale your stories straight to my bloodline, into my heart. It’s a
grief that tastes of absent ice cream bars at the airport,
what is a welcome back to a hometown without a beloved tradition?
a perfectly sweet candy,
gummy to the mouth,
but sticking to the teeth.
konjac eaten too quickly can catch and choke.
gulp it down so that you can save yourself,
I didn’t realize that I was lactose intolerant till my mid-twenties. I knew I didn’t like milk all my life, but thought is was a
Muriel the Brave by Diana Vaniotis and Parivash Goff Illustration by Jill Kimura Edited by Parivash Fahim Goff & Sonia Chintha Consumed by the everyday