if you are in search of life, you needn't look
beyond my window, where the yellowing brick is overgrown
with morning glory and begonias. i see the creepers
clutching wrought iron grills to invent their own ladders,
shoots and stems that teach me how to be peach-green and unapologetic.
the starlight spills through the window, the moonlight silvers the leaves.
my watering can sees the roots and the soil swallow each other
in endless hungry mouths. within the framed space of my window,
life isn't in need of capturing, it is still.
i am learning from the myrtle how to grow.
Trishita Das (she/her) is a teacher and writer from Mumbai, India. Her poems explore the ideas of identity, sexuality, and mental health and archive everyday life. Her works have been featured in several publications including The Remnant Archive, Ang(st) Feminist Zine, Plum Tree Tavern and Free Verse Revolution. She also enjoys fluffy dogs, culinary experiments, and bathroom singing. Read more of her work on Instagram: @fine_lined.