My daughter in the frantic evenings
Knits some stars and secrets,
Some pictures of our old wet pots,
Some letters loosely hanging
Over our home library attic.
She has taken overdoses of history syrups.
Knits some cages around the metals.
Presses my fingers hard inside the cages
For me to visualize the photos inside the nest.
The photos, old and stinking,
Haunted by miscalculations.
Our painted city skyscrapers
of those days, the shrinking stars,
Overwritten archeology,
Disappeared torches,
Circus ring chronicles,
Memorabilia of fabrics,
Mispronounced colours and shades,
Fortify dates in to rocketed papers.

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JYOTHSNA PHANIJA's poetry has appeared in Melusine, Muddy River Poetry Review, The Fat City Review, Tajmahal Review, Skeletons Anthology, Luvah, Coldnoon, Kritya, Kumquat Poetry, Coffee Shop Poems, Writers Asylum, Solstice Initiative, Miracle, eFiction India, Fragrance, Induswoman Writing, Vision through Words, ETC and is forthcoming in The Riveter Review. Her works of short story has appeared in eFiction India, and research articles in Subalternspeak, eDhvani, Wizcraft, and Barnolipi, as well as several books. She was born in a village called Kaikalur in Andhra Pradesh. A rare eye disorder caused her visual impairment from birth. Being fully independent in computers through screen reader software, she is doing her PhD research in English Literature in Hyderabad. She has presented her research papers in several seminars. A double gold medalist in academics, a singer who has performed in TV musical shows, a blogger, a recipient of several awards, and an English teacher, she is positive towards life. She is in the editorial team of The Criterion: An International Journal in English, reviewer for Indian Journal of Comparative Literature and Translation Studies and fiction editor for Miracle literature and art magazine. She aspires to publish her first poetry book soon.

One response to “Inherited Tapestry”

  1. Amiya chatterjee says:

    The poem started with melodious thoughtfulness.
    First five or six lines penetrated my soul.

    But it gradually got fabulously ”abstract” and
    Removed itself from melody.

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