“Trickle” was previously published in volume 5 of Lockjaw Magazine.
that night, I pull down the smokescreen and trick an orchard into existing in my living room. /
somehow, I am teaching God card games and winning. / paper trickles through my fingers and
spills into a brook. / a mouth filled with fish warns me about sadness steeped in coconut oil. /
papa is flipping coins and a boy begs for luck on our doorstep, singing lullabies about burnt
sugar. / ajji translates his anguish into light. / I rush to stir lentils, ghosting into a skeletal house. /
it showcases scabs sticky with spit. / spindly epiphanies come here to collapse. satin is bred here,
charcoaled walls succumbing to nature’s tang. / and ajji deconstructs the wind’s keening. / lays it
out neatly with the spices: cardamom here, cloves there. / but I am saudade. / displaced with
overripe fruits for breasts. / here, god flinches.