Stretch-marks-on-the-face-of-spring

Aakriti Kuntal/Writings of Aakriti Kuntal

Writings of Aakriti Kuntal

‘ Time collects in the circle of this wound. Here you shall sprout:
full of color, full of vigor, complete as all light. ‘

Mother, I counted your skin
like the ceaseless motion
of tongue assessing the irregularity of jaw

You are a convex liquid armchair
rocking back and forth
time squeezing your lap
Your seeking hands are like lizards,
stagnant, then running
Cerulean eyes, cheeks of crepe
Palm trees circling
the diaphragm
to form
my pillow of orange lights

You said through feverishly gray lips
that spring is here
that a flower has birthed in your womb,
water, turquoise pools
Mediterranean swirls and violet streams
That you have solved
the anomaly of friction
And now you are afloat
in a vacuum
long, large
and quieter every second

I watched through umbilical
blinds and colloidal irises
Meteors in your baked body
I watched you detonate
You are a quark
Motionless

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Author: braveandrecklessblog

A former clinical social worker, I am a research administrator, writer and artist. I started writing fiction and poetry in my pre-teen years and most recently have been writing essays at the intersection of popular culture, politics, world events and my personal experience. I take the world seriously but believe that the ability to laugh at myself is essential to my survival. I am rediscovering myself at 50 after being defined primarily by my roles for the last 18 years. I refuse to be invisible. I honor my voice. I write because I have to.

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