Ferment-Aakriti Kuntal


[Poem and art by Aakriti Kuntal]

I fell in love

with a different kind of earth


Blue and glazed yellow walls

Glimmering second coats



beneath my flicking tongue

I grew a cotton ball in my throat

fields in marrow and suspension in skin

Spanned my stockings and grafted my knuckles

I undertook

   in swift easy strokes

the voids in the air

and swiveled through them

A zebra, a lioness, an albatross and a hummingbird




I was sixteen,

tender moist bones,

tiptoeing through the corpses of history

and the

spinning frames of time.

I was sixteen

Flat, underground, gaseous existence

I had swallowed only incense

And I swelled

Daisies in my earlobe, in and around

A spiral existence

Inward and outward

Tomatoes in cubes, platters in my succulent breasts

My face, tatters, snow and landscapes

crayons and clay

I thought I could be


Blue, green or gray

I thought I could


I fell in love with a different kind of earth

Pomegranate contours and bouncy lines


Unraveling ever so slowly

in my entwined arteries


And then I started to spill

Every time I sat

I started to spill

I spilled like a birthing wound

Commotion sewing into

my waistline

A watercolor trajectory


Furry tornadoes wheeled out


my back, my limbs, my neck

My shaky head

in dissonance

My shaky lip

in fermentation

I am a yeast

I am a yeast


I am fermenting

I am fermenting

Cotton stacks piling on my diaphragm

I fell in love

with a different kind of earth

that floats like coal quartets in my chest



Into an uncertainty

of longitudinal story lines

Aakriti Kuntal is a 24-year-old emerging poetess from the country of veritable colors and stratified rainbows, India. A Network Engineer by profession she has been writing for over a year now. She enjoys nature, music, all things geeky and all things art.

Aakriti writes for the Writings of Aakriti Kuntal, and her work has been published in 1947 Literary Journal, Duane’s PoeTree blog, Visual Verse and Indian Periodical among others.


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I refuse to be invisible. I honor my voice. I write because I have to.

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