Writing

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glass jar, darling
it will hold the fireflies in;
fluttering wings
& blinding rings
of merry-go-rounds;
it’s not a trial to escape
(but we aren’t the judge,
are we?)
as her lean figure stretches
into impossible shapes
– ambiguous circles where you can’t make out the end
from the beginning
or sharp squares where every edge
is a dagger and every trial a duel –

the glass jar, darling
is the perfect home;
a locked field
& guarded dreams
where hopes don’t dash and crash;
the fireflies don’t fly high
enough to fall down and break
(something breaks, but green grass
can’t shatter bones, can it?)
as her thin figure stretches itself
into impossible sizes
– tiny as the dot of star trying
to blend in with the dark
before collapsing into giant holes
of empty light before everything
blinks –

a glass jar, darling
is a heart on fire;
icy cold
& frosted lore
as it breathes out another rhyme;
until your pocket knife slices it open
and your palms are streaked in black
(they don’t hide the blazing red
in your flaming chest, though)
as her fragile figure stretches and snaps
– and you, with your sewing kit
tie up the sinews and cold, cold flesh
as your sure fingers grope and grab
and caress and smack and kiss
and touch
until
the light
goes
out –

By Anushka Bidani

About Anushka Bidani:
Anushka Bidani is a 16 year old Humanities student. Her favorite subject is History; and she adores her country, all kinds of music and flowers, Connaught Place, coffee, poetry and libraries. Her plans for college include studying Journalism. You can read more of her at https://anushkabidani.wordpress.com/ and https://www.instagram.com/anushkabidani/.

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