Tag: indian

  • Solstice

    I am the bitter aftertaste, at the back of your throat. The greasy regret that sits slick, heavy, and clenching. I am the earth, midwinter, dry and frozen and I have forgotten  what spring means. 

  • Unfair and Lovely

    I wondered if my colors would run like the sari my mother washed yesterday, I watched it bleed and fade. Maybe if I floated here long enough, belly towards the cracked ceiling, my brown skin would slip down the drain with the dirty bathwater.