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.