A Recoiled Thunderstorm: Three Poems by Kashiana Singh
Photo: Karan Madhok
Poetry: ‘Flushed body of a zombie, burnt silk of raging worms / beholder of lost labyrinths, embroiderer of membranes’
COKE STUDIO SAVES MY FATHER
I bought a paid subscription to Coke Studio Pakistan in 2023.
In 2023, my parents visited us in the US after four long years.
my father plays paar channa de for 72 hours, waiting is a chore
every hour mother fights to stay present on fringes of breath
heart flutters faster in unnamed pounding of muscle
chordae tendineae strung tight arrhythmia of an irregular rhythm
million stars in tachycardia upon her chest hallucinations of a lost son
falling through skies uncoiled myocardium her memories drowning
light and buoyancy in an aubade, ripples fluid his face a swollen cloud
mother tastes metal nitroglycerin sunset lake recedes into
a recoiled thunderstorm sickle moon hesitant
her jaw line wincing & wooden antlers of buckhorn deer
she recedes into restfulness zipped inside a life support vehicle
tightness is a brace around her neck a neckline unadorned for 25 years
carried her dead son’s baritone voice like vermeil on a pendant, lustrous
cutlery is in a drawer next to the gas don’t even try to turn on the burner
bananas are on the kitchen counter, her instructions to dad as she was lifted into care
he spent three round nights bracing to guttural sound of thunderstorms
he stalked a village of shadows in an empty house his cane circuitous
clickety – click of impatience clickety – click of ferrule on wood
abundant aroma of unbaked clay kept him alive, the song on a stubborn repeat
till cardiologists in an aseptic hall of an american heart center declare her heart in
pristine condition, stoic he stood a marcus aurelius now slumping, stooped back
a sohni mahiwal ballad wafts into welcoming stereo sounds, their quietude
a balm of ribboned verse adrift wings of oceans, he is her mahiwal
50 years of love as a second language, yet now she has him fakir
both shimmying at 60 decibels of an indie rock, sohni & baig
yaar nu milegee ajj laash yaar dee paar chanaan de disse kulli yaar di
yaar nu milegee ajj lassh yaar dee a willing suspension of disbelief
*
MIDWIFERY
Midwifery is a sacred calling
white or black – magic to her belongs
Untethers our first cries
embalms transitions to rearing
Recurring dreams of their destiny
tattoo them to stippled earth, in divinity
Receiver of uncrusted flesh
accused often of stealing precious caul
Cleansing rites have remained her oath
brewer of umbilical harm, care of newborn
Fermenter of swollen skies, blamed for changeling cries
basil, mint, thyme, or dill
Flushed body of a zombie, burnt silk of raging worms
beholder of lost labyrinths, embroiderer of membranes
Shapeshifter of stars and light, stirrer of lichen in her pot
hair a catalog of rain and stone, sews cloth with autumn worms
Whirling on a goblet moon, ragdolls in the mouth of doom
maia of stories just begun; did joshua name a midwife too?
metamorphosis
softened then hardened
then excavated
tongues
*
LOSS OF OVARIAN FOLLICULAR FUNCTION
first, a dense packing of skin
starts to unpeel itself, picks
circles on a blistered wound
second, an uncertain tincture
of coral and navy, a floating
carcass of erogenous zones
third, mornings of involuntary
mantras on loop in my brain
exhorting my dead grandmom
fourth, a tongue juxtaposed
climacteric thawing of desires
a resplendent gaia now bathed
in enchanted presence of uranus
light of 27 shakespearean moons
though we say pause, we do stop
harvest season
reclaims unploughed land
my mother’s womb
***
Kashiana Singh serves as a managing editor for Poets Reading the News. Her full-length collection, Woman by the Door was released in 2022 with Apprentice House Press. She lives in North Carolina and carries her various geopolitical homes within her poetry. Her newest collection Witching Hour is due to be released in 2024 with Glass Lyre Press. You can find more information on her website. She is on Twitter: @Kashianasingh and Instagram: @kashianasingh.
