person Arushi Singh, one poem

Published in isacoustic!


Arushi Singh, a poet, book reviewer, and literature student from India, has poems forthcoming in Radius: Poetry from the centre to the edge and Chiron Review, and currently in The Big Windows Review, Literary Yard, Fourth and Sycamore, Anti-Heroin Chic, Cat on A Leash and others.



Mother is what comes
Before and after my face
Father is the aftermath of break in my umbilical
Mother holds and kisses his face
The contractions are not yet bad enough
Mother smiles- two crescents, halfway up like a
hanging boat ride
Father will remember this day
Years of hard distance between them
dissipating in the wetness of one
Mother starts to crumple, my sister can see the wrinkles
On her face
Father arches his eyebrows
Mother lets out a howl like a
Wolf looking for the moonlight
Father passes out in fear
A man- too many…

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The first time I was touched I didn’t know what it meant I knew I knew It was something wrong A storm through a broken Wind chime An old rhyme The second time I was touched I knew the word “molestation” I knew I knew The most dangerous words in the dictionary Were “uncle”, “cousin” … Continue reading Virginal


You rest your fingertip on the first button. Rest it on its lips tearing it open with a violence with a force not yet known to you the second one wilts in fear but your fingers scream unrelenting the countdown begins by the time you reach the last life has taken another meaning a car … Continue reading Buttons

all the way 

all with my eyes I lost all the way whispered the roads even my bones knelt  beside me this landscape  marred with a scale weighs in  on itself this sky  held down by its lies  carries the earth  in whispers and lies who knew    the price of dreaming  was losing my hold on reality … Continue reading all the way