how bright my face shines

I keep my body
hungry to test

pain’s proximity
oranges remind me

of dried bitters
in whiskey not you

a little bit of magic exists
everyday think of the blue

liquid that turns dull clothes
whiter and brighter

a chemical romance
I wonder about absorption

love has unblinded me
to the many ways holding

brings joy how I prefer
a cigarette over a vape

your mouth held many
silences so that you didn’t

have to become a liar
there are many ways to kill

a cat has nine lives
I want to see a pink flamingo

for real not the décor lighting
before I die let me tell you

there is no substitute
for experience except

experience and even god
cannot stop time

from turning so I teach
myself to mimic the rain

relish the pain
repurpose like Marie Kondo

I get the flu from eating an orange
is just another memory now

of where we met so I peel it
dry it grind it mix it

with milk into a glow mask


January

Sifting through grey days in a shoebox
room overlooking the Hudson
and helicopters flying to and fro over it
carrying people obsessed with aerial view
some days it’s the delicious call of pork tacos
on 42nd street, and on others it’s the 99 cent
pizza slices down at 9th street that pull me out
of my bed and winter misery.

Turning the page of The Crying Book and disembarking
at 14th street only to find that I have layered all  wrong
again     find myself walking to 16th and 5th to my favorite café
creamy spinach quiches and potato burekas on display
outside               hats flying, dead leaves dancing in circles
levitating            marrying the smoke from kebabs sizzling
in halal carts at street corners

hands become ice from collecting the 8 PM rain                craving
for the warmth of a mocha cappuccino from the little patisserie
in East Village   the familiar attendant at the register smiles puts in a free
chocolate glazed donut in my bag            Enjoy! And I start to
think of the promise of summer as I bite into this kindness.


Aditi Bhattacharjee is an Indian writer, currently matriculating her MFA in Creative Writing at The New School, New York. Her work has appeared or is upcoming in Lunch Ticket, Evocations Review, Vagabond City, The Remnant Archive, Pile Press, SLAB and elsewhere. When not cooking poems, she is found reading war histories or experimenting with different kinds of curries. You can get in touch with her @beingadtastic

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