Some of us are made from
half a dozen tangerines
three cups of liquid caffeine and
two reams of foolscap paper -
do not take us for
open mouths open thighs and closed eyes,
take us for open letters
that welcome you to peel off
our tangerine skin
in veiny spirals like the ridges at your fingertips,
the acid of our passion
will caress not corrode you
but remember to beware of citrus juice
splashing into your eye
it can make you wince, perhaps even cry;
you are welcome to sip softly
our caffeine blood
in a swirling stream of galaxies in bitter decay,
float on it in a boat that sails with our sighs
but remember to neither swig nor gulp
the dreams in it, do not make it
your midnight friend, it will keep you awake
on warm, dreamy afternoons
when you least want it to;
you are welcome to smoothen out
our origami bones
in slivers of unfolding sophistication -
calcified monuments at the edge of a flat Earth,
so remember to slow down at their edges
they can inflict paper cuts
and you are not the sky so
the inkpots in our lungs are too full to store
any of your blood when we sit down to write
a history that never was
but forever will be;
journey to the centre of our hearts
and you will find it encrusted with
the seeds of the tangerine
the gemstones that are our best friends
and you are welcome to
bury them
and trample on us with haste
like a fly rushing into a spiders web
bury them
and you will watch a new plant grow-
a flytrap;
because Venus too, was one of us.
Author Bio:
Sukanya Roy is seventeen-year old woman who seems to be able to do almost anything fairly well, but no one specific thing well enough. Poetry serves as emotional and existential catharsis for her, although that is probably not how she would’ve described her first experience of writing, when the couplets and tercets first started flowing at age seven, in her mother tongue, Bengali. It just happened, as some natural instinct. Growing up, she has always found solace in books and art and poetry, was for her the most productive way to make sense of the world around her. She wishes to continue seeking happiness from small things in life, which mostly does not include people. Except children.
half a dozen tangerines
three cups of liquid caffeine and
two reams of foolscap paper -
do not take us for
open mouths open thighs and closed eyes,
take us for open letters
that welcome you to peel off
our tangerine skin
in veiny spirals like the ridges at your fingertips,
the acid of our passion
will caress not corrode you
but remember to beware of citrus juice
splashing into your eye
it can make you wince, perhaps even cry;
you are welcome to sip softly
our caffeine blood
in a swirling stream of galaxies in bitter decay,
float on it in a boat that sails with our sighs
but remember to neither swig nor gulp
the dreams in it, do not make it
your midnight friend, it will keep you awake
on warm, dreamy afternoons
when you least want it to;
you are welcome to smoothen out
our origami bones
in slivers of unfolding sophistication -
calcified monuments at the edge of a flat Earth,
so remember to slow down at their edges
they can inflict paper cuts
and you are not the sky so
the inkpots in our lungs are too full to store
any of your blood when we sit down to write
a history that never was
but forever will be;
journey to the centre of our hearts
and you will find it encrusted with
the seeds of the tangerine
the gemstones that are our best friends
and you are welcome to
bury them
and trample on us with haste
like a fly rushing into a spiders web
bury them
and you will watch a new plant grow-
a flytrap;
because Venus too, was one of us.
Author Bio:
Sukanya Roy is seventeen-year old woman who seems to be able to do almost anything fairly well, but no one specific thing well enough. Poetry serves as emotional and existential catharsis for her, although that is probably not how she would’ve described her first experience of writing, when the couplets and tercets first started flowing at age seven, in her mother tongue, Bengali. It just happened, as some natural instinct. Growing up, she has always found solace in books and art and poetry, was for her the most productive way to make sense of the world around her. She wishes to continue seeking happiness from small things in life, which mostly does not include people. Except children.
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