by Purnima Bala

 

we did not come this far
by playing it safe
in this city of desolate hues,
of rich smog and wine and

junkies high on blackened air;
of tin houses, box roofs,
backlit river bend,
west side promenade leaves

trembling where a sister drew blood,
where an honourable cop leered
at high-collared kurtis, and
that stranger down the street

mugged in five seconds cried–
in this city of fear and contradictions,
we drank the dusk and danced
with petals falling over streetlights.

 

 

Purnima Bala (she/they) is a writer and artist from India. Her poetry and fiction can be found in Ellipses Zine, MoonPark Review, The Sea Letter, Mineral Lit, The Cabinet of Heed, Walled Women Magazine, and others.

She specialises in developmental editing and is currently working on her first poetry collection and a novel. In her spare time, she reads and reviews new and upcoming releases on her blog The Parenthesis Review.

Find out more about her work through her website, and connect with her on Twitter.