Turning points and Other Poems

By Kashiana Singh

Turning points

silverfish
darning holes
in language
                doppelganger
                the caesura between 
                death and I

repotting
I dig deep
into dirt
                standing atop
                a disemboweled earth
                many limbed durga

moon shapes
remaking of
old habits
	          sleeping town
	          a window lights up
	          at dusk

Menopausal

the insect inside its amber, a womb
                sharpness of tongue, an unleashing
                              weeping wisteria bleeds blue, fallen
                                            petals on the fault lines of earth, skin
                                                           dry like an unplanned drought, eager
disciple of thick bodies, an offering
a jasmine string, braiding its petals
into wired tendrils of weathered hair
the knotted veins inside restless legs
blushed pores on a platter of cheeks
abandoned bodies, women etched in
pattern recognition of blood moons
seasons of stained reminders, hover
her gnarled skin a crepe like surface
sweating, cold, hot, cold, hot, hotter
each layer removed, then worn again
each piece of cloth raging, a carrying
her body always in transit, its ragged
shadow imperfect, its splintered face
a talisman, its chest an altar, arms up
                                                              in obeisance to a ripening moonlight
                                                                           a hawk crying into dead air, a preying
                                                                                        a grandma orca whale, stops procreating too
                                                                                                        tantrums only a symptom, for perseveration
	                                                                                                               elephants don’t experience menopause

the trepidation of reproductive waves shifting from one generation to another to another to another
when one door closes, it opens another portal, and the galaxy of womanhood revolves around itself

anthropomorphism

She lingered at the fringes of
her empty nest, tiny feathers
some grace left in place, this
when her baby died, pecking
at iridescent circles of breath
squawking louder than those
common coqui frog, feasting

                                                                                  I hear the pecking bird again
                                                                                  pecking at my window glass

                     I stammer in response to
                     my unstoppable heart, its
                     bruises a feathered pause
                     my grief a flourished sigh

                     holding an outstretched
                     hand, fingers gripping at
                     her beak, clicking, cluck
                      in mourning, I stay quiet

I peel at my crusted eyes
as magpie wings stutter
the dance of life, marvel
around the stone spot of
death, by habit, her flock
gathers, auditioning loud
for passerine’s song

                                                                                   I hear the pecking bird again
                                                                                   pecking at my window glass
                                                                                   she places some pulled grass
                                                                                   a wreath of denial inscribed
                                                                                   on the ringed grave, worship 
                                                                                   is like lichen, circles of death
                                                                                   adorn the bodice of my town

When Kashiana is not writing, she lives to embody her TEDx talk theme of Work as Worship into her every day. She currently serves as Managing Editor for Poets Reading the News. Her chapbook Crushed Anthills by Yavanika Press is a journey through 10 cities. Her newest full-length collection, Woman by the Door was released in Feb 2022 with Apprentice House Press. Website – http://www.kashianasingh.com/