we were born on sawdust and torn tweed scattered along plains of wheat and weeds we suckled on old goat's milk and blue scars etched o...

Unstitch my mouth of black threads & brine Unbound my hands, I am in search of garden I am marking with red seeds, this path, mine Not o...

"(There are) many stories which are not on paper, they are written in the bodies and minds of women." By Amrita Pritam Unweave the...

the night is a silkworm feasting on mulberry leaves & starry constellations the weaving is slow yet deliberate, my hands are a  co...

Coconut pumpkin soup it is not his words solely but the way he spits them to her face -  hiss of the blade, sharp upper cut  t...

So my  feet  grew  roots  deep & mighty  ropes to anchor a ship  And my belly heard earthquakes & animal cries before fe...