Darling, I dream of a feral moon
under this cheerless sky.
How is it to be leafless and have
thorns sprout on the tongue?
Sometimes I yield to become a song,
but I am not. Light spins yarn
from my impudence. I chase the wind
echoing in the ravines and pine
for the dark storm that uproots
the forest. A volcano festers
in my throat and I feed on my fears.
Licking blood-stained claws, brooding
and grimacing even in spring,
I pray, die and resurrect
in these battles alone.
Smitha Sehgal is a legal professional and a bilingual poet who writes in English and Malayalam. A Best of the Net nominee, her poems have been featured in contemporary literary publications such as The Indianapolis Review, Ink Sweat & Tears, Tokyo Poetry Journal, Osiris, Marrow Magazine, Acropolis Journal, Gone Lawn Journal, Almost Island and elsewhere. She’s the author of ‘How Women Become Poems in Malabar‘ ( Red River, 2023).