By Priyanka Sacheti
The steps ending in the sky,
an unwrapped banana leaf manuscript
awaiting to be read.
There are roses blooming too,
fat red pink paint clouds:
you can’t see them
but they are very there.
A cat ghost sits on the steps,
licking its whiskers in
the butter sun.
You can hear her mewling
long after the sun sets,
the air scented with
sun-warmed rose
and the tired earth.
The newly risen moon
sees everything
and nothing.
We mortals
only see
what we
need to.
Priyanka Sacheti is a writer based in Bangalore, India. Priyanka previously lived in Sultanate of Oman, United Kingdom, and United States. She has been published in numerous publications with a special focus on art, gender, diaspora, and identity and is presently an editor at Mashallah News. Her literary work has appeared in The Cabinet of Heed, Popshot,The Brown Orient, Barren, Berfrois, The Lunchticket, and Jaggery Lit. She’s currently working on a poetry collection. An avid phone-photographer, she explores the intersection of her writing and photography at Instagram: @antalasofallthatisee. She tweets @priyankasacheti1.
Silk + Smoke 