Tag Archives: Karuna Chandrashekar

For daughters who mourn

No one told me that loss comes with a gag order, that my mouth, such a big room would turn catacomb for death to enshrine itself. At the back of my throat a wail, a sea swell a gale, a … Continue reading

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Grief clock

After you died / we covered all the clocks in the house / I could not bear the sound of a minute disappeared / I began to tell time by holding my wrist up to my ear / I heard … Continue reading

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After I die,

I want to be folded into a thousand paper cranes and set alight. I want to be the dark gathering water in my lover’s eyes. I want to be the fingers of dawn smudging windows of every mourning home. I … Continue reading

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things feel foreign

your skin is a gifted kimono gathering dust in this city’s forgotten closet. your hair, suffered many contracts between the heat and humid, is now given waivers by                                                                                                                                                    the wind. your lover meets you in a field, but the bazaar … Continue reading

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screen memory: after sufjan stevens

again, myth turns memory so lucid, like live wire under the thumb lucid, like a vial of venom on the verge of martyrdom. here: the art of animals, clouds in a sky of spilled milk there: a wrist met with … Continue reading

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