Poetry View

Good nigh

Stay alert as darkness sneaks up on you in Tanya Singh's twisting, turning poem.

by Tanya Singh 

I saw the shadow of the wind dance,
Like a sky rocketing to the chasms of my pockets,
A dime or two fell out of the haggard sweater,
And jumped right into the fountain,
But we had no wishes to keep,

Only wishes to sell,
and we knew we could do with money,

Avoiding the look of guilt, I picked up a few coins,
Merrily walked my way,
In and out the covers, rolling like the dusty
Hamburger on the side of a bargain cut loose,
I smiled at the sickening stranger I couldn’t recognise,
I couldn’t hear the sound she made,
Or the way her arms fanned up to hold me across,
Covering me in a tired tangerine,

But I pushed her down the stairs,
Watched her scars rot among the stars, ailing bitter,
Bruises right below her finger nails were painted black,
And I saw my soul dance with the wind,
not a tad bit uncanny, fading with the tang-eerie,
I saw my shadow perched up on the tree,
The bird singing my song, tireless and blue,

Alas, there was everyone at the funeral but me.


Tanya ‘Jade Vine’ Singh | @TAnyaJVSingh | The Cerurove

Tanya “Jade Vine” Singh is an Indian trans, non-binary, panromatic asexual writer, poet and editor. Their work has appeared in Gone Lawn, Minola Review, Polyphony H.S, and elsewhere, and has been recognized by the Times of India and Bow Seat Ocean Awareness Student Contest, among other places. They are the founder & editor-in-chief of The Cerurove, a literary & arts magazine. Find them on Twitter: @TanyaJVSingh.

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