quiet writes an ode to scream

By Swethlana Saraswat

you are ruby lip gaping wide open for the universe to settle in/ i am the gatekeeping father who lies that you are not home/ you are the slimy tongue that spits out hurt and anger like a reverse jukebox/i am the time that made your kind irrelevant/ you are the dragon lady gasping for air after howling out the last fire-strands of wroth/ i am the boiling blood/ you are the whistle of a pressure cooker/ i am the whisper that comes before/ you are the unattended milk that climbs out of the pot/ i am the stirring spoon that stops you from falling apart/  

you are red gowns and bloody gums, dirty knives forgotten in a crime scene, hot oxygen-deficient air, noise begging for permission to burst, primal riot against all evolutionary common sense, hunted down-crabs walking away from a grimy bucket/

i mean that you are beautiful/short skirts and sneakers, cheer captain and can play an instrument with the bleachers/ i admire you/ i respect you/ i mourn you/ i thank you/ everyday/ for your sacrifice/ you are the reason/ why i’m still alive.


Swethlana Saraswat (she/her) has written for multiple companies and college professors. Her work has been featured in performance poetry events, Ayaskala Literary Magazine, and in a poetry anthology published by Half-Baked Beans. She dreams full time and cries at Panda videos. Find her on Instagram @letters_by_lana.

This piece is a part of DISTANCED 3.0.

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