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  • Staff
    • Staff 2021 -22
    • Staff 2020
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  • Issues
    • A Fire of Words
    • Editor's Note 2022 >
      • The Floor Wallows Lower
      • Cornflowers
      • Erudite
      • That One Morning
      • mom, im afraid
      • selenophilia
      • Roses and Rainbows
      • If a poisonous snake bites itself, will it die?
      • Rochester
      • Crown of Branches
      • Stairs to the Sea
      • A Poem Written Entirely From Advertisements
      • Pyromania
      • silhouette of a bird against winter stars
      • thunderstorm in the bedroom
      • A Night in Recovery
      • sleeping gypsie
      • paper dolls&goodbyes
      • We Are Women
      • Village Air
      • Sunshine's Laughter
      • the male gaze
      • The Forensic Entomologist
      • Lacking
      • Drowning
      • Adelie
    • Create the Wonders We Dream (2021)
    • Editor's Note >
      • Zove
      • I'm Sorry
      • Fake Smile
      • My Friend the Balloon
      • Eyes Intertwined
      • Perfect
      • Only a Moment
      • A Dangerous Word
      • My Dreams
      • The Last 100 Meters
      • The Green Void (Villanelle)
      • The Whimsical Galaxy (Sestina)
      • The Silent Kindness
      • Pressure
      • Table on the Hill
      • The Yukon
      • The Shore
      • Repentance
      • Her and I
      • Infections of the Soul
      • Threads
      • Dream of a High Schooler
      • Empty
      • little flame
      • scars
      • black and white
      • The Cat
      • Joy
      • Sweet Honey Bee Stings
      • If There Were One Day
      • Delete
      • Our Hearts to Central Vietnam
      • him or Him?
      • Ocean
      • Es Llaner Beach
      • Sewn Together
      • Rain
      • Yes, I Like
      • The Legacy of the Moon
      • The Wind Whimpers
      • From Here I See
      • To Feel Clean
      • Red
      • Survival
      • Substance
      • Golden Lies
      • Midnight Tango
      • Ode to a Spleen
      • Modern Siren
      • The Night's Diamond Tears
      • Beats In Double Time
      • A Day in the Flight
      • Carved By Venus
      • Lifeline
      • Everest
      • Education
      • How Much of Reality Can Be Observed
      • What is a Spork
      • What is the difference between love and in love
      • What would you have wanted? me to say
      • Planet Caravan
      • The Journey of a Minute
      • The Circus of Scars
      • Mosaic
      • Color
      • Love and Acceptance
    • Colors I Never Knew Existed (2020)
    • Her Voice Remains (2017)
    • Watch Every Second (2018)
    • Words Become Reality (2019)
  • Blog
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Yes, I Like
By: 
Veerangana Praniti


yes, I like golden, local-fair, glass bangles--
the kind with gleaming paints, glitter-coated,
for they assure me, that wet, dark shadows
are not the legacy of all of humankind
and some leave glittery trails
and footprints of shine and shimmer
upon the ground on which they tread

yes, I like crumpled letters--
crumpled so much, that it seems as though
the handwritten letters are scrunched
into azure bruises, the boundaries of which
I cannot decipher, but nevertheless
I am a prying cardiologist
I shall not rest, till I touch the core
of these letters, which pulsates
like a curling sliver of warm sunshine
amidst these layers of pain that have been stitched
from the frosty threads of bluing emotion and when
I get to this core, the heart of these letters
I shall operate on it, tear it apart, see what’s inside
and finally stitch it so hard, with the tightest threads
so that what’s inside, stays inside

yes, I like winter skies--
that linger overhead, like a new bride
donning silken veils of fog and frost
over the moon, which is a single breast
protruding from the chest of the sky
as I watch the wind softly whimper
to the sky, like a doting mother
teaching the sky, to negotiate boundaries
with her breasts

yes, I like crumpling leaves--
rubbed along the edges with the coppery colors
of that evening, when father left
a day that I’d seize in my bare hands

place on my fingers and spiral it around
like a purple, childhood top
till it transforms into a blurry, starry, sunlit mess
and then, I’d observe imprints of that day
rainbow-shaped footprints, shape shifting into nothingness
on this quivering autumn leaf, breathless under the weight
of old, rusting seasons

yes, I like long conversations--
played to the rhythm of falling rain

about coffee shops and fragrant walls
about long walks and fairy hide-outs
possibly lurking beneath your footprints
that one footprint which twists and turns
still finding its space on the wet mud,
possibly lost between what’s yours, what’s mine,
frantically questing for what’s ours

about poetry I hold tight
in the centre of my palm--
so much so, it leaves a shapeless imprint
on the flushed canvas of my skin
and when I attempt to decipher
the shapes it may hold
it speaks to me, and says
in an ice-cold voice, that it isn’t here
to be understood

about poetry I bring close,
to the tip of my tongue, and inhale
the saltiness of the first snowflake
the reluctant sweetness of rain, the sudden spice
of autumn, the sugary-coats of spring

about poetry that shows, about poetry that tastes
about poetry that scents
about poetry that remains
Picture
Writer's Statement: I am a sixteen-year-old girl, who aspires to become a full-time writer one day!
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