yellow-blue-16-multi-dot-circles-1969
Binary Nodes in Space
by Aakriti Kuntal

I’ve waited—
like a child does,
the flavor of ice cream in its curly head
     pista pockets/ rains of croissant light/
Imagine it enough times
and reality seems like the distant star
The body sleeps in the fatness of music,
the enormous distance between notes
If I could, I would flee,
     dis pe r se,
become water or ice, or perhaps, starlight
Stare endlessly from between the two notes
that mold the geometry that is music,
its Archimedean nose, its giggling in space
I’ve waited. I am still waiting.
The body is a bee.
It imagines all living things are.
It imagines all to be tiny dots
with bright, bright eyes—
insects/ men/ lizards/ women/ children/
All are always birds and bees
shifting through the hair of agitated space
The body sleeps in the current.
It is the flatness that none can knock at
A soft line—
“If you stare long enough at the sky,
you will create it out of simple suspension;
a dreaminess that only resignation begets”
The body has waited,
waited for its kind.
It sits in the garden
and watches the tiny stubs of hair
on its thigh;
the dance of all life within it.
The body participates in its sadness.
It is compelled by the vowels of its being.
It’s only so wise as it is naive
It holds the entire earth—
like a croak
One day it imagines
it will detach its earlobe
and put it      against the naphthalene teal ice,
the stretch of superconductors
Scratch water with nails,
become an architect of things that do not stay
hold the warm ear—
     gushing,      purple with curled life,
slurp the eternal howl of pearl lakes
The body will disperse—
strip by strip
It knows it is more fiction than reality
It has always lived in the land of the imaginary
The body holds a single tear
It will never let it apparate
It will hold it,
like the saw that separates worlds
Keep it floating in the breast
A bubble, a stone      both, both
glistening/ quaking/ staring
The body is a spring sienna—
in it all must sleep
All must inundate
All it waits for
is a single bow in the crevice of time—
a thin ribbon, a stray petal,
a kindness in time
that will negate all else
A single day of endless staring
beside the warm smell
of a living body
and the body will know,
it will confirm—an effulgence in the nine senses,
an entire existence

PAINTING: Yellow & Blue 16 Multi-Dot Circles by Herbert Zangs (1969).

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Aakriti Kuntal is a 28-year-old poet and writer from India. Her work has been featured in various literary magazines and journals, including Rasputin: A Poetry thread, Cha: An Asian Literary Journal, The Blue Nib, and The Hindu and Poetry at Sangam. She was awarded the Reuel International Prize 2017 for poetry and was a finalist for the RL Poetry Award 2018.  Her poem “Lilith” received a nomination for the Best of the Net 2018-19 by the Pangolin Review.