The Surface. Again. tags: sand
By Satya Gummuluri i am a shred. fragmented. mosaic, shard porcupine. my words are chipped desultory whines start. start again. i am an old woman now practitioner of knotted chords, shedding hair, blowing wisps, wishing they snare, on my quills that will sentence them to magic carpets. meanwhile, i double up on myself to shield against the cottonball rain pelting my skin. i tie myself into knots curl up swallow tail wringing my insides out; primordial viscosity. i turn sides to distribute…