all the pieces
they add up—to desires, deep yearnings of belongings that are not mine to have
they hover, slap me with icy fingers,
each time I look in the mirror
so I follow the clouds, eyes exhaling hunger—an empty vessel, I sweep the sky strapping myself to each cloud
an empty embrace of pieces I will not possess
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.
It was almost Halloween and the whole school was glowing, lit with the bright orange light. you blasted through my door like dynamite through a
confused in a puddle I paddle slowly through past the sharp sunsets smooth sunrises barely avoiding icebergs yearning to stand on solid ground I gaze
Walking through a field of sinking sand I push hard for clarity it doesn’t matter those words don’t matter I will not let them attach