Blue Blood
I hate the term emerging poet
At times
I wonder if I should carry the
shell
Remains of pupa
Pleading for respect.
I have not travelled the world
You may think I am ignorant.
I wish to show you one day
How I collapse in the
Dirt, breadcrumbs of sloppy
Children’s dinner
On which red ants feast.
I fall to sleep dreaming
Of writing.
I am on a magic bicycle that
Can carry all of us safely
across the workaday world
To subtle dimensions
That only a poet
Feels in her veins.
I reach into my heart
For fresh blood
But readers want
Blue, deoxygenated dreams
Famished empty streams.
The daily fights
Cobwebs on
My soul,
Scrubbing on broken knees
That I leave behind.
The Leer
I fear sympathy
But your
Misplaced empathy
Murders my soul.
What am I supposed to
Feel?
Gratitude?
Loyalty?
It boils down to inferiority
Condescension
And charity.
I want to
Meet my equal
I don’t want
That full bodied
Dazzling smile
That cheers.
It reeks of
Sly intimacy
A leer.
You are going to
Sort me out.
No.
I am not
Your wardrobe.
I will not be
Colour coordinated
And shelved seasonally.
It Girl, for Real.
I am the dark
I am the light
I give up.
I still
Got some fight.
I have the right.
To know my rights.
Don’t Judge
Don’t fudge
The issues
Smudge my
Cheap mascara in
Your expensive
Scented tissues.
I am not here
To scale
Your social ladder
Your reference points
Make me sadder.
No soul
Should be
Smothered.
I am It.
I got grit.
The real thing.
This bird will fly
Her mangled wings.
Amrita Valan is a writer based in Bangalore, India and has a master’s degree in English literature.
Her poems and short
stories have been published in more than a dozen anthologies and online
journals such as Café Lit, Café Dissensus, ImpSpired, Spillwords, The
Crossroads, Oddball Magazine, Shot Glass Journal, Poetry and Places, Wink,
Modern Literature, Portland Metrozine, The Indian Periodical, The Writers Club
and Potato Soup Journal and most recently Short Story Town. She is also
awaiting publication in a few more anthologies and online literary zines.
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