Featured Artwork by Ellen Von Wiegand
I’ve let several hands roam over this body; seeking resolutions to all my conflicts
Holding on to pocket-sized phrases from one night stands, and injecting them in my spine
In an attempt to stand a little taller than I am.
I’ve let pulsating fingers scuffle through my hair in order to curb this eerie unfamiliarity with myself.
When mirrors have clouded my vision to see an empty reflection
I’ve let several lips whisper sweet nothings in my ear
Passing notes of worthiness between breathless kisses,
Intertwining toes under sheets of despair, to produce broken verses as gospels,
Which I braided in my hair
Using extra pins to retain pieces of hollow validation.
I’ve let several eyes impersonate my own
Balancing my esteem on fragile notions of conventionality
Weaving them in my clothes
Just to appease your ridiculous gaze.
I’ve let mouths take pieces of me in their teeth
Just to feel whole again
I’ve strung lies together
To create this facade
That tugs at the nape of my neck
As reality gingerly chips away.
I’ve burnt behind closed doors
But oh not in vain
After futile attempts to perceive myself through others
I have decided to be whole again
Promiscuous or not
I stand tall again.
By Simran Hora
Simran Hora is basically Rapunzel, barring (pun intended) the small detail of having been locked in a tower for eighteen years. Armed with her mile-long hair, her frying pan and her giant animal side-kick Google, Simran will sautee mushrooms and psychoanalyze the protagonist of novels all the way from Kalidasa to Austen to Shelley, only taking a break to comb out her lustrous locks. In addition to writing thought-provoking feminist poetry, Simran also performs it, and hosts personal dance parties for one in her kitchen as non-seasonal Christmas carols blast from her laptop. You can find her on Instagram: @simranhoraa