Whispers

My hands tiptoe to the tip of your toes. And don’t somersault. Just linger. In the distance, I hear a sigh. Loud enough to measure on the Richter scale. The machine on the table is going berserk and the night insists on stopping the sun from walking its day. Many ballerinas are dancing, and sipping glasses of red wine and skyscrapers speak in hushed tones, nodding at one another intermittently. All the cars and cabs and people are flying. And canals of fresh jasmines flow by. I slide off the side of one of skyscrapers. Steel and my whispers collide. “Stop cussing,” you say. “My curses are sprinkled with sugar, honey” There’s a loud thud and glass breaks as I slid into you.

Anita Nahal is an Indian American poet, flash fictionist, children’s writer, columnist, and professor. Anita has two books of poetry, one of flash fictions, four for children and three edited anthologies to her credit. Her third book of poetry, What’s wrong with us Kali women, is due for release by Kelsay Books in August 2021. Anita teaches at the University of the District of Columbia, Washington DC. Two of Anita’s books are prescribed in a course on multiculturalism and immigration at the University of the Utrecht, The Netherlands. More on her at: https://anitanahal.wixsite.com/anitanahal