Sneha Subramanian Kanta
listen to our common song
across the foglines
where herons hold their necks
above water
like ghosts.
what firmament
against these sands
we’ve walked:
another evening
the waves bring
your memory-scent
to the shore.
a cardinal presses
against the window
half-mist, half-body
sunlight migrates
to wash remnant dew.
against the flaming cyclone
city awash with morningrain
conjuring a calamity in reverse
this time, sweet bursts of rain
will leave something still awake.
there will be light
the linoleum floors
all the years
assemble into specifics
of remembrance
the body holds
more beautiful storms.
we are all the birds
we didn’t know
what to call
the night on wirelines
a fast-prancing train.
listen to our common song
across the foglines
where herons hold their necks
above water
like ghosts.
what firmament
against these sands
we’ve walked:
another evening
the waves bring
your memory-scent
to the shore.
a cardinal presses
against the window
half-mist, half-body
sunlight migrates
to wash remnant dew.
against the flaming cyclone
city awash with morningrain
conjuring a calamity in reverse
this time, sweet bursts of rain
will leave something still awake.
there will be light
the linoleum floors
all the years
assemble into specifics
of remembrance
the body holds
more beautiful storms.
we are all the birds
we didn’t know
what to call
the night on wirelines
a fast-prancing train.
Sneha Subramanian Kanta is the author of the chapbook Ghost Tracks (Louisiana Literature Press, 2020). Her poem “Un-Elegy, Or How Water Unmakes A Country” won the inaugural Canadian Authors Association Toronto Poetry Prize. She is the founding editor of Parentheses Journal. Find her at www.snehasubramaniankanta.com.