The flowers are still on the table,
the ones I so hastily purchased to brighten this place of mine
because those colors, they will break up this block of ice that’s burning my feet
but I couldn’t even place them in water—couldn’t give them their most basic need, couldn’t do for them
for I haven’t, haven’t been doing for me—my most basic need.
So they are dying.
slowly, a soft yielding death
while I, I remain standing on this frozen block,
feet numb.
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.
Friday afternoon after an intense Pilates class, I walked over to Nickell’s & Scheffler for a quick snack. They had just finished preparing chili and
Tiny brown beads sizzle in my non-stick pan, slowly enlarging. I stick my nose closer to get a whiff of the mustard seeds I’m pickling
I believe in vegging out. For my 28th birthday, N and I went to Chicago for the first time. We were so excited because we