The lid on my head is heavy, keeps me under a constant state of bringing to a boil. The comfort of this cycle is a habit I fall into even after years and years of seeking another way. Bring to a boil is easy, bring to a boil is comfortable, bring to a boil is exhausting.
Today, I
Today I slid the lid off my head and remembered I had shoulders and torso and pelvis and legs and feet. That I could be light and this did not make me less.
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.
Across the street there is hustle and bustle, A constant buzz of thrill— beats pumping, bodies moving Continuous action. Across from that is a still
for wearing ties and high-heeled boots for Speaking up for speaking the truth I burp, I curse, I’m hard as asphalt I’m tired of your
What you don’t see is that one inch needle I inject into the skin of my belly every Saturday: the counting to three, the self-talks
I wish I could let go of you You with your crushing sarcasm laughing at it all like it’s no big deal– to treat me