A woman walked down a mountain and it smoldered by Anindita Sengupta
Even a field of flowers may contain fire. Aah, in Urdu, means moan or sigh.
This stays with me as I walk the tightrope strung between dwellings.
I, coast-born, more comfortable at lower altitude. From up here,
the towers and poles of the city seem immutable but I like change,
trust the urge to learn the outside, the blood and bone of the world
moving us forward. The imprint of her body was found later, scorching ground.
A human body is Gestalt, more than the sum of its parts but how quickly a mountain
becomes char, 33000 acres of coyote snake squirrel raccoon mountain lion,
one woman body. It is not enough to feel this fear. You have to get inside it like water
gets inside you, or love. A woman walked down a mountain or perhaps the mountain
walked down her, estrogen sopping its forests, igniting them with its power.
What can un-provoke such conflagration? I come up with this: Betrachten
is the special way of looking that brings things alive yet we insist on burying memories
under the cherry tomato plants. The end of a mountain is where land begins.
This stays with me as I walk the tightrope strung between dwellings.
I, coast-born, more comfortable at lower altitude. From up here,
the towers and poles of the city seem immutable but I like change,
trust the urge to learn the outside, the blood and bone of the world
moving us forward. The imprint of her body was found later, scorching ground.
A human body is Gestalt, more than the sum of its parts but how quickly a mountain
becomes char, 33000 acres of coyote snake squirrel raccoon mountain lion,
one woman body. It is not enough to feel this fear. You have to get inside it like water
gets inside you, or love. A woman walked down a mountain or perhaps the mountain
walked down her, estrogen sopping its forests, igniting them with its power.
What can un-provoke such conflagration? I come up with this: Betrachten
is the special way of looking that brings things alive yet we insist on burying memories
under the cherry tomato plants. The end of a mountain is where land begins.
Anindita Sengupta is the author of Walk Like Monsters (Paperwall, 2016) and City of Water (Sahitya Akademi, 2010). Her work has appeared in anthologies and journals such as Plume, 580 Split, One and Breakwater Review. She is Contributing Editor, Poetry, at Barren Magazine. She has received fellowships and awards from the Charles Wallace Trust India, the International Reporting Project, TFA India, and Muse India. She currently lives in Los Angeles, California. Her website is http://aninditasengupta.com.
RowanArtC feels that the work should speak for itself and invites the viewers to go wild with their imagination. The world within us (random thoughts and emotions) is a rich spring of inspiration for her work.