Editor's Note

The first thing I noticed about Shivani Agrawal’s poems was not the words but the very scaffold holding them together. For me, Agrawal’s absolutely dexterous ability to experiment with form is the most exciting thing about these poems. Employing visual caesuras, encountering the silence & loudness of white space, challenging the left-margin, using the tabular form of a glossary: these are some of the heterogeneous choices with which the poet plays around with the blank page.

Agrawal’s poems feel fresh not only because of their formal spunk and inventiveness but also for how they nudge us, over and over, to rearrange our very gaze. For instance, if there’s a sense of crowding in ‘All Girls’ Girls’, there is a sense of space, both literal and figurative, in ‘The Year of Choosing Joy’. And in ‘After eight years…’ we’re challenged even further as readers not only to make our own connections across rows and columns but also to rethink how language rearranges into images and emotions. Most interestingly however, these poems blur the separation between a poem and its architecture. In true chicken-and-egg style, we will never know what came first, or indeed, where one ends and the other begins. The boundaries between the poem and the form are effectively blurred.

— Kunjana Parashar
The Bombay Literary Magazine

All girls’ girls

 

one. we held piss in for 48 hours. two. with my head on your shoulder, rocked asleep by the t-chjk t-chjk t-chjk of the indian railway system. three. window shutters pulled open. mouthfuls of green air watching farmlands whoosh. small towns, sometimes people on motorbikes. four. chai le lo chai le lo chai le lo chai garma garam chai. five. girls at an abandoned station with too big suitcases full bladders  minimal upper body strength and a dream. six. all-girls’ girls. all the dreams – stashed phones and clean toilets and running away with– seven. roll drag kick break climb forty-five flights of stairs to arrive into light. eight. crammed into so many vans spiralling upward to dalhousie. nine. stars and stars and stars like you cannot see at home. ten. only pine and pine and pine and the full moon behind the hills. ten. only pine and moon and hill and girlhood in the backseat. ten. only hill and girls and girls taking turns to piss.

 

 

 

The Year of Choosing Joy

 

was actually the year of bad teeth and bad kidneys i discovered horrible truths about myself i couldnt love didnt want to didnt see any of that in the map

of my life i lost friends to

 

space

 

i had this shelf with safety pins and spare toothbrushes and

a bottle of zoloft

     in order to not kill

myself i needed to make things: a sandwich a trip to kmart another

grief drained saturday playlist on spotify needed to drink neon

orange aperol and go on   a very long walk needed to

stand shin-deep in the ocean to look at bird-mangled fish needed to

watch the sky turn princess frosting pink

 neededtoneededtoneededtoneededtoneededtoneededtoneededtoneededtoneededtoneeded to find ways to live i needed

to  live

when joy was hard i wasnt without

 i was with absence of

my jellyfish body bondi acid blue on the ocean floor i made my own joy

joy was  always always always there   even when it felt impossible in a life like mine

 

 

 

After eight years, one week and two days, my body stops disintegrating somewhere over the Pacific

After Franny Choi

 

  
 LONELINESS
 FEAR
 GRIEF
 JOY
 LOVE
 see meaning
 not death, therefore life
 ocean waters beyond the reach of sunlight (1,000-4,000 metres)
 the shape of hunger
 vitamin D oral solution 6000 IU
 the brilliant orange of mandarins
 also known as
 rootless
 decay; forlorn
 cadaver; murmur
 sunlight; exit mould
 soup; swell; song
 if neither, then
 daughter
 birth
 raat ki raani
 papercut
 fist
 etymology
 mid-flight over red hot pōhutukawa
 see if neither, then
 sticky refrigerator shelf
 hole in the wall chinese restaurant
 ends of evening sky bitten pink
 dreams of being
 held
 reasonable
 small
 endless
 dreamt of

Acknowledgments

Image credits: © Sadhna Prasad. Reproduced here with the artist’s permission. For more of her work, check out Sadhna’s Insta at @sadh.press.

Sadhna Prasad’s vibrant creations are found on street walls, buildings and commissioned spaces, often depicting young people going about their lives. As do Shivani Agrawal’s poems.

See also Lady Pink’s painting which accompanies Deborah Leipziger’s set of poems in this issue.

Author | SHIVANI AGRAWAL

SHIVANI AGRAWAL is a poet and editor from Bhopal, currently based in Hamilton, Aotearoa New Zealand. She is halfway through finishing a Master’s in Professional Writing from the University of Waikato, and works part-time as a communications advisor. Her recent works are featured/forthcoming in Poetry Aotearoa, Mayhem Literary Journal, Mister Magazine, and The Alipore Post.

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