Tilt my chin to the skies and envision your skies: mostly gray, maybe cloudy, framed by the pine greens and you—
With your bright ass district colors among the earth tones and rainbow hair, marking the concrete like thunder rumbling clouds.
It makes me smile, it makes me smile.
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.
To Those Who Stole My Autonomy:
I stand a sturdy sixty inches; mostly fat,
a rumbling glacier
threatening civilization’s end.
a grown-ass brown woman
standing outside your pretty bougie house
of perfectly manicured lawns, stainless white fences.
Blue like the ocean big, bright, kind Blue like the sky above, vast, wide, love Blue where I found you now, here, there, more Light
A silky-sweet, buttery-crisp scallop honors my tongue and I’m instantly nodding and embarrassingly “mmming” so the table next to me grows awkwardly silent. The plate