I see through your game of pretense; the game of tag that has no end.
I see through you time, even when you slam minutes into the crown of my head—a hammer to a nail: pound, pound, pound
I see through you fear, even when you drag me to the edge of the cliff and taunt me from below, firing image after image of endings and uncertainties.
I see through you all
For I am above—
A sturdy mountain of truth and nothing is moving this mountain
Not today!
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.
Arms out in a T-shape, I walk stable as hell across a tight rope; it’s new, it’s old, I should have mastered this prance, but
When I was young, my mom and I made it to the mall every Black Friday in search of deals. What we got instead, because
Each year it stares at me from the wall next to my desk. May 19-June 8: the state testing window I glance at it in