Neutral Days

Near the northern end of our city,we meet, often in one minute cafeto sip bitterness liquefied, and nod at itsrather a Spartan decor, its walls’ limemortar grouting; the wall between us sees itself on a looking glass;the blood seems always high on a thinnerbearing steroids pushed to skirmish againstwhat we now cannot recall, and so

Alternatives to Suicide

Trigger Warning: Suicide + Depression Say you wanted it like this—Spaced out bimboDriving too slow in the left laneIgnore the glares When they prance aheadEmbrace the half-lifePat the little orange flame:“Thanks little candle,You’ve been all you can be.”Quiet light is also good light.Block off a space and fee to enterStop thinking your life is a pony

o.g.b.a.n.j.e

imagine trying to deal with a dead person inside you clamouring for rememberance each time you try to shed a new skin. whoever told you death is final lied to you the day I found from much resistance – a constant burying is required to keep your lungs open and your eyes closed.  to continue

paper airplanes

We fold corners, crease and prepare for launchfrom a rooftop patio we’re not supposed to be onaccording to a sign and we throw paper airplanes into the darknesswatching them until they disappear into the night’s cold cloak silence beckoning the words we scribbled on the wingssaying hello and nice to meet you and don’t you look nice

la casita

We call it “la casita” because it was the only house we moved into when I was growing up—all of the others were apartments of varying sizes and shapes and neighborhoods. My dad worked all day, but I only remember the coming home in muddy bootsbooming voices like quicksandpouring into my ears. We had a

The Placard Stuck in the Basement

Come into my outstretched armsYour love is posited with outstretch longingTo my warmth breast your hunger quenchUntil dawn grows without you Pregnant day hatches without your voiceYour sweet love muttered into my ears with seductionLove rings the bell of reminder for your voiceThe chain of affection holds me to a bond. Day and night your

Two Streams

When a stream of envymixes witha stream of disappointmentat myself,a fire of desire for broken futurebegins to burn on my skin This whirlpoolleads me to the darkest loneliness,makes me emptier,andfascinates me strongly Yuu Ikeda is a Japan based poet.She loves writing, drawing,and reading mystery novels.She writes poetry on her website.https://poetryandcoffeedays.wordpress.com/Her published poems can be foundin

Personhood

I am the straight barkof the untouched Cebuano palm,where the lechon is the bestand words fly freely and gahi. My bones kneaded fromthe pearls of my mother’s tears,marking her path from Tondo to Quezon Cityto Playa del Rey. My lips lined with thekiss between spring and summer,green and gold, with a laughto rival the Pacific.

November 19, 2020

In which I write,I’m losing patience for Lolo. I can’t stand his selfishness and lack of appreciation.  Beneath that, Pain pills, two every 4-6 hours my scribbles of two tongues,clumsily labelled yellow for Tagalog,orange for Bisaya, Na antok ko. I wish I could take a nap. Maybe when Lola leaves, I’ll take a nap on

ode to this particular peach

my cheeks are sticky with laughterand something even brighter…the trickle of the evening suntrailing down my chin.I come to life while I cupthat orange sweetness,my fingers dig,my mouth becomes an altar.I could worship the feelingof pulp beneath my palms,the last slivers of it shiftinglike snakes in the kitchen sink. Sanjana Ramanathan (she/her) is an English