My face is unusual
It is lit, soft undertones, white powder brush
( swathed and layered, feathers and wavering ships )
The winter winds 
draw water crockery and wispy treasures
on this skeletal white plane, vertical and standing
Winter winds depart from my tongue
and infuse the length of glass with currents from
my past
A rendering of blue on a white milk dream

My eyes pop, irises stroked with spindles of green grass
The clouds stand
rebellious and loud
They stand in my backyard today;
jumping and hopping, 
wearing their restless rhythms like proud petal hats
A cacophony breaks under a sweltering hum
( underground sounds )

There are ripples
all over my balloon skin
Ripples of sewn thunder and relentless adventures 
My cheeks, paper drawings, a stampede of concentric circles
I am unusual, today
The clouds have gathered 
in my backyard 
And I am all tiny again
I am so tiny
I could fit anywhere

IMAGE AND POEM Β© Aakriti Kuntal


8 thoughts on “Greetings from the Clouds

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