On the face of it, there isn’t anything to be said.
Spread the paint across the floor, lay down the
white. Cover your palms with wax, a bald eagle.
Instructions: empty the skies into an eye of gold.
Keep the nails down. Lay down your head in the
creek, make sure the moss is near your skin. Close
your eyes, tighten them as the stars come night.
From the orb, the silver oyster-like seashell of glass
and only glass, empty each finger, each ash,
a speck of ash, each particle, soil, into the water
until earth turns to earth and salt to salt.
Transcend into nothingness. Last thing is to draw
a positive correlation between dark and drug,
between the call and the receiver’s wire, lying
dead on the floor. Don’t hang up.
Smriti Verma’s poetry and fiction have appeared or are forthcoming in Word Riot, Open Road Review, Alexandria Quarterly, the DoveTales anthology, Textploit and Young Poets Network. She is the recipient of the ‘Save The Earth’ Poetry Prize 2015 and was part of The Adroit Journal’s 2015 Summer Mentorship Program and the GKA Summer Writing Studio. Apart from this, she enjoys working as a First Reader for Polyphony HS and Junior Editor at Siblíní Art and Literature Journal.