Sri Kodakalla Poetry Zine

 
 
 
 
 
 

 

Table of contents / 
 

I. The satellites keep broadcasting meaningless 
content, yet we’re still here for it 

II. The feeling of being watched 
III. Like monarchs 
IV. Through new eyes, recently awakened 
V. The sky that swallowed the archangel Gabriel 
VI. Tunnel Vision 
VII. The smell of sweet rain 
VIII. Following the streetlights at night, headed to 

Chinatown 
IX. You sign yourself up for one thing and hell, 

suddenly, you’re the poster child for everything 
 
  

I /  

 

The satellites keep broadcasting meaningless content, 

yet we’re still here for it 
 
Constantly bombarded with news headlines of people 

su fering in conditions far worse than ours,  
we turn to worlds that are supposed to comfort us-- 
we see pages full of people who are smarter,  
more beautiful,  
more vivacious.   
Those words become synonymous with 
Our fears 

are self-indulgent-- 
continually starving and craving attention.  
 
Must you always force yourself to conduct penance for 

being yoursel ? 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

II /  
 

The feeling of being watched 
 
Help me understand 
What you keep hidden 
Beneath what is gilded shut 
With wrought gates 
Cascaded with delicate twirls of the sharpest stems 
That bite 

Bite hard 
Seeking blood 
You get vicious 
But I don't scare easy 
I've given many scars, too 
Because I, like you-- 
have been strangled, su focated, and 
subverted by those, weildling pearls as opportunities 
for more 
For a chance at freedom, 
We don rosy cheeks and spiderwebbed eyes 
Patting cakes 
Layers upon layers 
 
Now, they see you 
But do you -- see you? 
I do. 
 
 

III /    

 

Like monarchs 
 
I get pulled in, 
unconsciously suspended, 
lingering on each breath that 
expels through your lips and onto my skin, 

Imperfect 
yet made perfect by your eyes that see into me, 
Scanning slowly along my frame, 
Seeing and unseeing the things I call flaws. 
 
We take in one another with uncertainty,  
knowing far too well that love is fleeting, 
flitting helplessly on tactful tongues, 
likening ourselves to monarchs  
sucking on nectar in ecstasy for the very 
presence of your indelicate embrace. 

IV /  

 

Through new eyes, recently awakened 
 
I set foot on paths untouched, 
awakened and anew 
With questions and a longing for answers 
of who and what 
and why we’re here 
 
What measure of faith in the unknown,  
Created me --  

Abundant in curiosity 
Bright-eyed and steadfast 
Welcoming in with open arms, 
A youth with a longing for a transfusion of new 
blood,  
charting me o f into uncanny worlds of my making 
 
Or perhaps it was in my stars, 
Written and transcribed in the divine -- 
An omen of the tender nature of my soul  
Steeping for years in patience and grief, saturated by 
the su fering of past lives,  
Who lie long awaiting the moment to secede from the 
confines of ancestral aches,  
Ready to embark with unwavering strength, 
To carry my body to the finish line. 
 

V /  

 

The sky that swallowed the archangel Gabriel 
 
Looming overhead 
Nebulous striations in gradients of murky pond waters 
Su focating the world still 
Sti f yet for the single bee that buzzed past his ear 
Seeking refuge from the coming storm 
 
This is the story of a young man,  
Chosen by God himself, 
Caught between his intention and misconception 
Pulled o f of the very Earth where his feet lay firmly 
planted. 
  

VI / 

 

Tunnel Vision 
 
Aren't you tired yet -- 
Of repeating yourself constantly 
And holding your arms above your head for those vile 
flies to rise up 
Yet they seek only your frame 
The way your dress sits on hips you were given 
And the way your nipples naturally answer questions 
asked by passing breezes 
Then to the spaces in between filled with their limited 
imagination 
Of perfect women on screens only watched in 
bedrooms alone 
Removing articles of clothing and pieces of you with 
them 
Forgetting stretch marks you earned marking your 
growth 
And the birthmarks that signify only you 
 
You keep holding your arms above your head for those 
vile flies to rise up 
But in this Virginia humidity, 
They avert your eyes 
Because to see you would be to acknowledge you are 
human. 
What a thought. 

VII /    

 

The smell of sweet rain 
 
Petrichor, they call it 
the smell of the soil after it rains 
A deep, earthiness that fills me with comfort, in 
reminder of early days where things felt safer and 
easier: 
 

My muddy feet 
always bare 

Paper folded dinghies 
ready to set sail 

Pinkies linked 
knowing you were always there 

The taste of mangoes 
sickeningly sweet 

The warmth of a summer breeze 
winding goosebumps along my forearms 

The depth of your laughter 
curling me in tight 

The twinkle in your eyes-- 
 
That’s where it stops because as much as I’d like to 
remember,  

I can no longer see your face anymore, 
But the feeling of you -- it still remains. 

VIII /  

 

Following the streetlights at night, headed to 

Chinatown 
 
Walking winding streets,  

seemingly aimless and firm of breath, 

pulling in the depth of the darkest black sky, 

only to be blinded by the bright moonlight,  

begging sleep.  
 
Yet not for you, who wander willfully in search of the 

flashing red lights, 

OPEN 

That beckon you into their deep darks.   

IX / 

 

You sign yourself up for one thing and hell, suddenly, 

you’re the poster child for everything 
 
I'm at a loss for words sometimes 
Do you ever have that? 
Where your head goes blank -- 
It’s almost peaceful, but fitfully so 
Because you've thought a billion and one things to 
death 
And it leaves you -- still 
With the exhaustion of never having really finished a 

thought 
Full of doubt and fearful of picking the wrong path 
That you just get quiet 
And can feel your breath 
Heart in your throat 
The weight of your eyelids with each blink 
That’s the way your body tells you 
'I need a break.'