the planets of my existence spin on the axis of your spine, juggled by whalesong fastened to a low-hanging tuft of cloud, they orbit in the breath of dusk outside your window suspended like a solar cot mobile, just beyond reach of chub soft fists of milk-sweet infants -------------------- ii. summertime; mangoes stain your wrist your chin sticky sweet trickling down to the hollow of your throat where flowers sometimes grow watered by kisses in the garden of my home
About the poet:
Indian writer Mehuli Mazumder is presently pursuing a master's degree in comparative literary and cultural studies in London. She is fascinated by the written word's ability to create flavours of the surreal and fantastic embedded very much in the fabric of mundane objects. In her poems, she likes to experiment with the body as a participant object interacting with everyday phenomena; and doing so by suspending the physical outlines of existence. The cornerstones of her aesthetic are enshrined in liminality.
Follow Mehuli on Instagram @mehxli.