a heart below a flag
while the house floats
in the middle of a framed-in sky
Stanzas of grace and thunder;
beads, crystals, feathers,
intonations of Runes—
Clothed mosaics;
carnival explosion
of an energetic soul.
Pots from a third world
madly anglicized;
multiple compilations
of earth's blood.
When finally you know
what cannot be said
you will have arrived in time
for your demise.
Starch stiffened angels
above a captured pose,
mirrored drawers with beaded knobs,
lovebirds of museum glass,
a wooden trunk of dreams lived.
It's 50-year-old handles
shaped like smiles,
an object infused by touch.
Atoms of memory remain intact.
How far we've come
to be back.
Belinda Subraman's writing spans a vast array of subjects, styles and publications. She has traveled in over twenty countries, lived in Europe for six years and was part of an East Indian family for twenty-two years. These cross-cultural experiences often inform her work as well as her experiences as a Registered Nurse. These days her poetry, stories, and art can be found in hundreds of journals, reviews, anthologies, books and chapbooks. Since 1994 her archives are housed at the University of New Mexico, Albuquerque, in the Center for Southwest Research. She is the author of Blue Rooms, Black Holes, White Lights, and a co-editor of Unlikely Stories of the Third Kind, published by Unlikely Books.
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