Scaled: Truth is a Bitch

At her very core, a nurturer
starving from various
forms of malnourishment: cuerpo y alma.
                                            Grace and very fine

movements define the chiseled sculpture of that
woman’s body at the mercy of the Man. She is

the mother of air, the beauty,
poetry. A fitting Queen for dogs.


Know My Name

As sick as she is, the Rose

entered the Cathedral.  Every step


taken with a long, hard,

exacting stare, while she peels off


each layer and layer, fiber to fiber,

to the silky petal of skin.  Textiles slip


off in succession, while she strides

down the aisle.  Grasping the last


bottle in her small world, step, by

lightly, step.  It’s Frankincense.  The bottle


seemed to open itself just to find the delicate

follicled flesh.  Anointed in a gift of oil


soothing she gifted herself, she climbs naked on the altar

before the Passion depicted on walls.

Till Your Roots Run Dry

She wilts.  A rose silent in its solitary


dying at a death camp of flowers

on a remote Himalayan           mountain.  There’s a place


where some people are            afraid of what grows

from the ground calling it garbage


with a foreign tongue.  After the war of Capital

Gain—also known as economic


conflict, everything’s lost.  So to soothe her

own synapses she uses her thorns


to etch a sweet little ditty.  A slow

 song for a sick rose.   

Ain’t No Misbehavin

Indifference is an extreme


form of cruelty.  So many suffering

because someone has to suffer


for the greater good of someone.  Even if they are


just sheep staring blankly at each

other, while a pack of dogs


demolishes the herd one by one in the trusting


bleats of the blinded badly. Nothing communicates

death as loudly as silence. 


It’s poverty of person: a dishonoring of the self—the one


that’s a part of everything else.  In the void of meaning,

so it’s all meaningless senselessness.  Now, that too is


nearly gone.  Real gone, as if voice were


some allusive abstract thing, but all you gotta

do is write that shit down.

Being Silently Drawn by a Stronger Pull

Always a series of complications, life is what

it is, some are more skilled translators


transmitting the frequencies of what that means. Some are just


illiterate, because they were tricked into believing lies

dressed up by lies.  Truth just dances in the shadows,


in those fissures of peripheral vision.


Mein lieblings schattentanzer.  A strong line slowly

lowers the toned and taught muscles of the female


form of a cat burglar from the ceiling. She’s harnessed by her


waist, making that sculpted body fold backward in a teardrop

shaped back-bend.  Grabbing her ankles, she lifts her eyes


to engage the view of her sparkling prize between her

knees slightly bent and splayed open.  We constantly


abstract the things we see with language—telling


roses to behave a certain way, or forgetting that

some things cannot translate—which at best fails


us every time.  Give it up cause you


don’t understand the mechanics of expressing

any truth but your own, unless you become


a skilled thief of beautiful things.


Post Hysterectomy Love Letter

It’s terrifying what you’ve done

to me.  Each cosmic micro-moment


your lips were on mine reminded me that I am

indeed a woman, so there is no


need for the symbol


in a metalwork design shaded by sharp

greys and blacks on my belly


to remind me so.  The vacancy of my womb

deprived of organs, makes me a partial


woman with cancerous female parts, so I

thought.  Now, I don’t know what I am.

Call for Submissions:

Yuyutsu Sharma’s Eternal Snow: An Anthology of Poems originating from Yuyu’s interactions, Readings and Workshops

Edited with an Introduction by
David Austell & Kathleen D Gallagher
Fellow poets and writers!
If you have had the pleasure of meeting or interacting with Yuyu or had the opportunity of attending this internationally renowned Himalayan Poet’s  workshops, you are herein invited to submit to the upcoming  anthology, tentatively named,  Eternal Snow: An Anthology of Poems Originating from Yuyu’s Works, Readings and Workshops.
Please submit your work for consideration to 
Kathleen D Gallagher to 
We look forward to reading you submissions.
More details follow…