Literary Orphans

by Shinjini Bhattacharjee


Whenever I put the river

beneath my mouth

the owls scratch out

the word space in plural.

Most of our breaths go missing

when the throat spits out fists

the size of untethered leaf vein

running inside a summer ground.

As a child I thought that toes

always implied adventure.

One by one stone shaped wrens

tumble out of the brooding coffee.

Their faces look like nightmare

Is the easiest way to pronounce

for a brick shadow’s graveyard spine.

Even plastic knows how to playact

when we stamp air inside it.

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Shinjini Bhattacharjee is a poet and the Editor-in-Chief  of Hermeneutic Chaos Literary Journal. She considers herself to be a lexical photographer who loves to rummage through language to find words that smell like infinite spandex, and weave them into images to cloak her experiences and emotions. Her poems have been published, or are forthcoming in The Stray Branch, Metazen, Four and Twenty Poetry, Dead Flowers: A Poetry Rag, Danse Macabre,Nostrovia! Poetry,and elsewhere. She is also the author of Masquerading Fawn, a poetry chapbook. To know more about her, visit here.


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–Art by Simona Capriana