Poem by Anushka Bidani
Samaira takes her morning coffee black;
the bitter burn a test match for her tongue
to swing defences and offences back and forth,
prepping the muscle to be alert for
when the day calls for sudden retorts.
Samaira never lets her hair down;
the knots in her head a protective fence
against them who might pull her back by her mane,
tilting her neck along a delicate curve
and running the knife through.
Samaira prefers the stairs over the elevators;
the four-walled tin box contains a diffused taste of metal in the air,
wherein her tongue sticks to the roof of her mouth,
and her screams aren’t heard.
Samaira would never buy pants that end above her knees;
the extra length of flesh a flashing green
read as “come hither, monsieur;”
the fiery red in her eyes
is conveniently ignored.
Samaira is scared to walk home after 22:10;
the blinking red of the clock on her office desk
is a careful reminder to climb into her car
before it transforms into a pumpkin at 12;
it’s trick-and-treat tonight.
(Samaira finds that the streets of her city
hold a parade of cosplays:
it’s Halloween everyday.)
Anushka Bidani is an 18 year old poet and essayist from India. She adores the rain, blue skies, open mic events, the human anatomy, & art in all its distinct magnificent shapes. She's the Founder & Editor-in-chief at Headcanon Magazine. Currently, she writes for Teen Belle Magazine. Her work has been published in Esthesia Magazine, Rose Quartz Magazine, and Sugar Rascals Magazine; & is forthcoming in Royal Rose Magazine. She writes at https://anushkabidanix.wordpress.com.
Twitter handle: @anushkabidani_
Instagram handle: @anushkabidani