By Ravneet Kaur Sandhu
after Hilma af Klint
᠅
Hope is a horror of love
You and I
We don’t like uncomfortable feelings
My feet are turning blue
You and I
We don’t like uncomfortable feelings
My feet are turning blue
Finding my voice to yell
There’s a language inside of me that dies
When our mouths pull against gravity
Into a polyphonic rage
If I cannot change it
I don’t let myself feel it
If the space between two loves
Is as immense as a keening ocean
Then why is it the only voice that laments?
The screams are stuck inside of me
You push, I pull
And we don’t go anywhere
Insects in amber, fossilized in our own secretions
Stuck between feathers used for flight
We need to think outside the trap of ourselves
I press the down feather you once left
Into the void framed by bleached wood and square-wire shutters
Waiting for the sun to purify it
I press the down feather you once left
Into the void framed by bleached wood and square-wire shutters
Waiting for the sun to purify it
Give me romance give me love give me some action
Give me an ending that is happy
Alchemize these emotions, cremate the hate
Swallow it down like fine sand
Give me an ending that is happy
Alchemize these emotions, cremate the hate
Swallow it down like fine sand
I would be, no doubt, be lonelier without
The dance of mated swans on a canvas of ice
Glaciers break and the ocean between us rises
The rage is on our mouths
Outstretched wings and angry beaks
We both have bad teeth
The dance of mated swans on a canvas of ice
Glaciers break and the ocean between us rises
The rage is on our mouths
Outstretched wings and angry beaks
We both have bad teeth
Ravneet Kaur Sandhu currently lives near Philadelphia with her husband. Her short stories have been published in The Offing, Gordon Square Review and Tiny Spoon Magazine. Find her on Instagram at @ravneet_recommends.
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