Four Window Poems by Kashiana Singh


Artwork by Susan Hunt-Wulkowicz

Kashiana Singh on Four Window Poems:

"I have spent a lot of time by the window as the pandemic played itself out and I had the view of a river beneath my window, a rail track, a mountain range and the cityscape!

The four window poems are born of the window out to the world, Similarly and yet differently, Orb is of what was happening inside and the window to the formation of life within my home where I was watching a grandchild coming to life over the last few months. I am new grandma as of June and what a poem the experience is seeing this little one unfold within his mother and being born into our world!"


Orb


rhythms-

your unborn child

gathering


changing light-

his eyes a window

to your womb


pregnant clouds-

your hand guiding

unborn feet


dear grandchild

the maple bloomed

overnight


winter sky

the sudden stirring

in her belly


laundry load

the shifting size

of your shirts



Four Window Poems


I

The passing view


it is a train running past my dimmed night

a river skimming the surface of afternoon

aches, a windswept tree holding my mood

each morning when the sun slants into its

broken bark trunk, squirrel yawning just as

another evening spreads itself wide, a bird

fluttering by my window, the suffused sun

dissolving light in a golden array of honey

convulsing into a nothingness, its sparkle

breaks through the dead waters, gathering

everything around, it moves like a waterfall

I pick at the ivy, shaping calligraphic stains

framed like palms around my window sills

II

Twilight window


draperies of the night lit up like gossamer

they harbour years within a white veined

skin.

it learns to be hungry, stay hungry, weep

into the pillow of stars, a floating platter

of tears.

a tall clocktower stands in watch, calm

leaning into scooped eyes of your grief

alone.

ruptured leaves hang in limbo, outside

my twilight window they become many

stories.

the rearranged river still flows straight

following music which erupts from lazy

stones.

another bud bursting its way through a

womb of shadows, composition of still

blue.

another awful hour rising its way to me

and whenever I hear its sound, my ears

perk up.


III

Imprints


Fingerprints

left

on

the

edge

of

w i n d o w s

curious as

they peak

at scenes

outside of

bordered

w

o

m

a

n

h

o

o

d

deliberately

tapping into

lurking time

unclaimed

rituals of a

life beside


IV

Holding attention

algae holds itself inside the corners

of my folds where a memory lingers

it blooms like coriander coiling out

of my yawning words. Hollows of

the air where I have stood is heavy

it weighs still, balanced against light.

now I am at a window, mending the

afternoon of its foul breath with my

purple bruised veins tautly coiled in

french knots. each knot wound into

captive breaths. wrinkles wrapped in

clusters, surrounded by a chain edge

staring at me in a jewelled outline of

pollen dots, behind the dark window.



Kashiana Singh lives in Chicago and embodies her TEDx talk theme of Work as Worship into her everyday. Her poetry collection, Shelling Peanuts and Stringing Words presents her voice as a participant and an observer. Her chapbook Crushed Anthills is a journey through 10 cities – a complex maze of remembrances to unravel. Her poems have been published on various platforms including Poets Reading the News, Visual Verse, Oddball Magazine, Café Dissensus, TurnPike Magazine, Inverse Journal. Kashiana is the winner of the 2020 Reuel International Poetry Award. She lives in Chicago and carries her various geographical homes within her poetry.