This is the time for a storm,

The boat is settled on a pistachio shell lathered with planks to hold lotus bulbs coffined deep down the marsh

where the heat from you plops at all the constant curves of mine

and the cuts of my curve.


I am here –

a new cinnamon fern ready to start a voyage underwater where irises turn into scoops of peppermint dead body marshes

when we will dance on life joining tips of our leaves to transfer all the breath

that we could carry in a twig,

But, spurt your fears

We will build something new

right when the upper air leaves and a tail for new air gets ready, we will make methane pipelines for each other slowly.

By Misbah Ansari

About Misbhah:
Misbah Ansari is 17, a student of humanities, and a firm believer of the fact that you are the beholder of beauty that people talk about. She is an unabashed Potterhead, feminist, orator, and a literature aficionado. Her works have been published in The Bombay review, Coldnoon, The Hindu, Feminism in India before, and she is currently a Content and Research writer for an activist organization
Work references  – https://www.instagram.com/mightohchondria/?hl=enwww.youngbhartiya.com/article/problems-of-the-prodigy-children-in-reality-tv-shows-1


Artwork (Dead Leaves) by Ernest Biéler.


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