hinges
it is easy to obsess over small objects
paperclips spoons and q-tips when self
grooming generates silence — virginal
trumps untamable — the renunciations
of dullness do not lead to desire
with upturned hands, razors, at rest
it is easiest to use sadness as a utensil
to push people away spiders construct
traps from their abdomen then devour
daily to recoup, silk protein recycled
gouaches in lowlight, design or debris
we all think we might be terrible
but we only reveal this before
asking someone to love us
a kind of undressing — it is easy
to section and peel a tangelo
even false origin stories expose
shame — a cerebral echo chamber
when self sculpture empties
mark the focal point as hinge
hemmed, at the center, coral
since microwave romances have deceptive expiration dates
i brush my teeth at his place now, but that’s not the point
scuba means self contained underwater breathing apparatus
he kisses me urgently mid chew ginger garlic fish sauce
in public, no pressure, no hesitation, and this is mos def not the point
chemistry is important since we cannot manufacture it out of raw necessity
Drake’s first line in Finesse is I want my babies to have your eyes
despite incoming or ongoing variables what is the function of “x” why tell
a stranger or a lover your problems when you can use it as a chance to
punish those around you — make haste and hail to the queen of non-sequiturs
on my critical thinking roster i can’t pronounce the name “FNU”
in countries where newborns are left post war now privileged
strangers greet them as “first name unknown” a haunting aqualung
nerve damage after dead relationships may result in tooth decay
when you are tasting: the first taste acclimates the palate, the second
establishes a foundation, and the third taste is to make a decision
since you’re an expert of creating a crisis out of empty nostalgia
can i get a metaphorical forklift for all my emotional baggage?
the accumulation of plaque cannot be resolved by few weeks of flossing
what is lost can be found in the biological studies of an oyster or was it an orchid
or was it of a clitoris — quick what’s a common fishing blunder? let me noodle
around with this for a while before i get back to you
the anatomy of beaches: 3 on west coast, 14 on east coast
your absence has reached comical heights Charlie Chaplin
himself would rise from the dead to have a laugh at us
is this my grave or my mother’s womb?
it upsets me when my mother thinks
my poetry is silly. the word “silly”
comes from the old english word “selig”
meaning happy, healthy, and prosperous.
in german, “selig” means to be blessed:
but consecrated and made holy with what?
when a title, silly, precedes the name
of a person, their identity, vigor, and
passion are reduced to the relevancy
of a car alarm. i failed to master french
and vietnamese. my mother has a myriad
of domesticated excuses to not speak
the english language. it complicates
the process of checking and rechecking
the meaning of words in results
to the drowning of palettes in sand
dunes of iodine soaked palm fronds.
a car alarm without a car is not just an alarm.
as mother calls poetry silly, she shucks
and drains the basket of mussels and oysters
in the sink, shucking and draining
with such a lonely authority, the way
a businesswoman shucks off her nightgown,
the way a flaccid regime shucks off
its totalitarian characteristics. my mother
is above logic, she cannot be subpoenaed,
even under oath in court she will not admit
to stating that my poetry is trivial. in the kitchen,
i read her a line from Marcel Proust, happiness
is beneficial for the body, but it is grief
that develops the powers of the mind
but she isn’t listening.
lessons in taxidermy
my armpits have been secreting scaled sadness
for months grommeting new ways to chew
linea alba fat tongue teeth grinder agenda
sleep as prize for insomniacs somnambulists
consolation mantra safe alignments cold mala
beads rotates between index and middle silence
betrays never thought i’d feel this kind of hesitation
my hands on another girl its more than taxing
the way you take control ocean jasper too often
longing arcs expose vagueness seek excitement
in the mundane fingers on pulse fingering
when did withholding become attractive
knuckles hungry for pelvic bone quick terse
confession sharper than indigenous peppermint
are tactile feedbacks are satisfying imps
important lines lost between the years skin folds
if emptiness is a pretense, a breached duality, an unearthing
without dirt rebound is proof of grief interrupted here
taxonomy of queen bees a dozen to please you
| 🌺 Link to ”a nesting of queer epiphanies in an invisible cat’s cradle” [PDF] Jax NTP |
‘Hinges’ and other poems © Jax NTP
Dr. Nishi Pulugurtha is an associate professor in the department of English, Brahmananda Keshab Chandra College and has taught postgraduate courses at West Bengal State University, Rabindra Bharati University and the University of Calcutta. She is the Secretary of the Intercultural Poetry and Performance Library, Kolkata (IPPL). Her research areas are British Romantic literature, Postcolonial literature, Indian writing in English, literature of the diaspora, film and Shakespeare adaptation in film. Dr. Pulugurtha has presented papers at national and international conferences in India and abroad and has published in refereed international and national journals. She is a creative writer and writes on travel, film, short stories, poetry and on Alzheimer’s Disease. Her work has been published in The Statesman, Kolkata, in the anthology Tranquil Muse and online – Café Dissensus, Coldnoon, Queen Mob’s Tea House and Setu. She guest-edited the June 2018 Issue of Café Dissensus on Travel. She has a monograph on Derozio (2010) and a collection of essays on travel, Out in the Open (2019).
Arathy Asok’s debut collection Lady Jesus and Other Poems is described by the Journal of Commonwealth Literature as “Resistance poetry with a sharp edge” (2019, Vol. 54(4) ). She is a bilingual writer and was featured poet at The Blue Nib Magazine (Issue 37, Ireland). Her poems have appeared in national and international journals, in print and online (in Samyukta, Poetry Chain, anti-heroin chic, Poets in Nigeria, Blue Nib magazine, Door is Ajar, Womaword Press and Culture Cult). They are included in an Anthology called Native Petals, Nocturne and Iliyali (USA). Her short stories in Malayalam have appeared in Madhyamam Weekly and English short stories in Rupture (Pakistan), Credo Espire (USA) and have been translated to her mother tongue and published in Indian Express Malayalam Online.
Chris Murray 