Marsha Singh

Marsha Singh Nov 2018

We brought breakfast.
You fed us; we let you.
We sighed and we said that
we'd never forget you; we get you.
And then we licked our
spoons and we left you.

Marsha Singh Sep 2018

You dimmed the lights

and invited the moon into the
room – a stranger, she stole
through the night to our chambers,
a bevy of damsels to carry her candles.
She lit up our eyes; she lit up our skin
like our skin was the sky.

Then she loaned me her robe and she kissed me goodbye.

#themoon

Marsha Singh Aug 2018

Sunup

We came with wet
eyes, with teeth bright
as planets; we came like
weather, like daylight, hair
damp and skin flushed.

We came like sunup.

We woke the birds up.

Marsha Singh Jul 2018

Christie,

if you asked,
I'd slide your shirt
down your shoulders;
I'd hold you. I'd heal you.
Christie, I feel you. I know you –
your nature, the real you. I'd kneel
here. I'd shield you. Christie, I need you.

A word game I played with myself. Sometimes, I just want to make something pretty.

Marsha Singh Jul 2018

same thing, only different

the world aches to de-
light me, shakes her
wild hair and flirts; she
also lies and beguiles
and sometimes she hurts.

After sleeping on it, I feel like this is the poem I should have written, but I just can't bear to put the other one out of its misery.

Marsha Singh Jun 2018

still love her

the world aches to de-
light me – it shakes its
wild hair and struts; it
also lies and philanders
and sometimes it cuts.

Marsha Singh Jun 2018

So, I'm a survivor now.

They think my nerves are cold
steel; they call me unnn-real, like
I'm a big deal; they think I'm all
fight, that I've gained deeper in-
sight. Like I'm alright. Like I don't
cry. And all I did was not die.

I had cancer. Then I didn't.