Crinoline filaments
Rolling over and over
Mid-flight the ochre velvet ribbons sailed to the left
Instead of to the right
Two feet retreating
But with one shoe on

Memory returns
For a few seconds of
the calamity
At that private house in Paris
She’d tumbled down the central staircase
Sailing with legs overhead
until she stopped miraculously with her ***
at the shining leather toes of the footman.
He kept his head up.
She wore a beautiful dress.
Her hair was quite precise and she hoped that that would be a sufficient enough apology towards an empty silence.

But this isn’t that.
I shoved her.
And she went willingly. They all do.
We’re roughly a group of fifty-three.

Gathering in the last few years
Whispering over drinks
of tumors
And vascular difficulties
Of pills and appointments and forgetfulness
They never mentioned that
In those climate controlled rooms with
Blackboards covered in Latin and Trigonometry
Of the body’s failure.
Now there’s no longer any mention made of the kids
or whether or not that husband was worth the bother

Did we notice atop
The balance beam not a peep was mentioned
About the moment when you can no longer walk or stand?
That the brain asks please but the body will not comply?
How cool the marbled floor feels against your cheek while you lay for hours in your own feces?
One can rest comfortably knowing at long last that that wallpaper was the right choice.
Kept one really engaged while waiting and waiting for someone.
And that is just the beginning, right?

Perhaps some assumed that the end would come with a daily circle reviewing the contents of their chamber ***
Grimacing and worn
While they recline in white nightclothes
Something akin to what they saw on the BBC

Perhaps a startled disquiet at the rebuke of their intent and gamely stares from a premiere specialist in Switzerland
an expert in alternative therapies
for what someone dared call
terminal
Anyway, this is quicker.

So we’ve come together
As sisters
And when the time is right I get the call
We go onto the roof
There’s an elevator now because
Otherwise that wouldn’t work
And one by one
In small batches
They are dispatched
It doesn’t take as long as you would think
We are confident and have agency
We were taught that we could do anything
And they are right.

The ones with a lot of metal can be a bit tricky
They have balance issues
But are always chic and always polite
There was a time when we were forced to be together when we clearly did not want to.
We never thought as one.
Some families are better than others.
But everything is different now

One day it will be my turn and
I wonder who will deliver me?
And what shall I wear?
Will I try to see where I’m going or will I rest comfortably in my finale.

I adore the way the wind catches the cloth.
How the crystalline beads are removed around the neck and handed over
so as not to add to any distraction
Or delay
The pinky coral mouthed “Thank you” and
And the sweet eyes that once were bright and shining say their
Goodbyes
Rippling
twirling
looping
interweaving
cascading
Down.

this poem needs a continuation
-it has to be metaphorically beautiful,
more than us.

it -this poem,
should be a ballad.
a saga.

but darling, we’re not really anything,
we’re not really anything at all.

i wish i could break these walls down,
but these words (honey, sweetheart, darling),
they get stuck in my mouth with you.

i wish i could tell who made me realize,
who my “special someone” (as you said it),
is but i don’t want to ruin us.

you’ll only be darling in my head.
we’re only lovers in my heart.

every dance i’d dance with you,
but i know i couldn’t dance with you,
unless you knew everything.

but if you knew everything,
you wouldn’t want to know me at all.

so there’s the reason -
this ballad, love song, work of art, horrible poem for a lover
will stay in my heart.

Another year.
Then another 4.
I start tommorow.
I'd rather kiss the floor.
They ask if I'm excited.
Oh I just wanna soar!
What do you think?
That I have actual friends?
Well now that depends.
All I have are fake friends.
Nobody to hangout with at ends.
I am so social look at these sends!
I just try to get by.
All I want to do is say bye.
All I can do is lie.
Because I can't get out of this.
This waste of time.
Hit me in the head with chime.
I still won't be positive.
This is not how I want to live.
But I don't have control.
Control of what I go through.
It's as terrible as coal.
Why do I need to do this?
It is honestly useless.
Education is unbearable.
My peers are not standable!
I am going through torture.
I could learn so much easier alone.
I know it help my future!
If you changed this stupid tone!
That I listen to everyday.
Annoying so much that I pray.
For an online course take me away.
This is dumb.
This is wrong.
To put kids through this for so long.
This is how real life is huh?  
I get told that all the time.
But it doesn't have to be this way!
We could see a better day!
Just fix education please.
It brings me down to their knees.
And doesn't let me rise.
You wonder why it's mostly cries?
Complaing?
Lies?
Explaining?
Because this stuff can't fit true needs.
Needs to make thing easier.
More efficient.
Breasier.
More enjoyable done.
QUICKER!
That's a positive for my happy sun.
I don't need more assignments.
Just more assistance.
I want to be witness.
To this simple change.
Before I become.
A complete derange.

Cheaply manufactured in India
Its fake marbled cover fakier than ever
But not as fakey as this assignment
“Grendl symbolizes existential…”

Cross out cross out crossoutcrossoutcrossout

“Grendl symbolizes…” my senior year
Nobody understands why I don’t want
To go to college, why I quit the band -
Grendl and I are both exiles, okay…?

Cross out cross out crossoutcrossoutcrossout

I love my fountain pen; its deep, dark lines

Just like me

Refuse to be MLA marginalized

“Grendl symbolizes…”

when i was young
ammi packed me lunch
one strawberry jam sandwich
cut neatly into squares

as i grew older
and my tummy much bigger
(along with my appetite)
one turned into two
two to three
and finally
for some unknown reason
there were no strawberry jam sandwiches
but ammi still packed me lunch

it was tuna or chicken
maybe tomato and cheese
sometimes a pastry
i wasn't hard to please

and it never occurred to me
that my strawberry sandwiches
were gone

till one completely random day
i'm sitting with my friends
taking the first bite of my sandwich
a burst of strawberry fills my mouth
sweet, rich with sugar
it tastes red, good bright red
my strawberry jam sandwich came back
and i was bombarded by my childhood
playing on the swings sandwich in hand
red coated crumbs dotting my shirt
running out of class as soon as the bell rings
to munch munch munch
on my strawberry sandwiches

strawberry jam was never my favourite filling
but it filled me with memories
so occasionlly
when i'm feeling nostalgic
i'll pick up a slice, butter it up
spread my gooey, red friend
and share a sandwich with ammi.