7 poems | Ranger Magazine

Ranger magazine

Shivani Gupta is a recent Chicago habitant, having lived & performed spoken word across India & Scotland over the last 10 years. She is a writer, dancer, curator and overall stage loving human. Usually too eager to spill vulnerability over coffee with strangers, she can be found wherever the smell of baked goods envelops the air. Website: https://thegirlbehindthoseglasses.com

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Excerpt of *self-portrait as a kind of devouring*

"whatever part of Noah's ark or
 Attenborough's docu comes for this reclamation,
 I'm here for it.
 they can enjoy my supple thighs, roasted, curried or grilled
 i demand not to be boiled, i refuse to be a salt-and-pepper kind of meal.
 promise me you won't let me go unseasoned?"

Excerpt of *Some nights I pray to swine flu gods*

"Give me that Fat Bottomed Girls Cosmo
 the BM-lie detector.
 visit from swine flu gods, combined with typhoid numen
 I have Ammaʼs arms and Naniʼs hips, their endurance combined."

Excerpt of *If they broke it, do we still have to buy it?*

"Don't tell me empathy is finite.
 I know forgetting is easier to come by than forgiveness
 But is that so bad?
 Come close, let me tell you its secrets.
 This world confessed it's atrophying
 Got a bad case of osteoporosis
 I guess crumbling is now an adjective?"

Excerpt of *among me*

"my god comes home too late, stays in a glass cubed cell
 waits for darkness to declare him productive
 
 my god is a clumsy dancer
 gliding sockless on scratched forgiving floors

 my god knows my name
 and all the ways to breathe it"

Excerpt of *In your before*

"rides came without a cautionary tale,
 for there is no one left to share them:
 
 a one way trip to butterfly
 
 i lost your name through time
 like a misspelled park of amusement"

Excerpt of *What is this immigrant instinct to cook my day away?*

"in the midst of performance appraisals and the impending red of misfortune,
 i put on a Haldi stained pot; handful of mustard seeds popping
 copious salting, restrained pepper, for the green chilli is coming

 *

 The price to integrate is to not rage at golden milk chai tea lattes
 assimilate: great, i did it.
 Did you also need me to lose myself?"

Excerpt of *What do dead bees spread?*

"coffee burns, tea stinks of cardamom calendar unturned, 
 the pretense for relevance
 my favorite consumptions now turn on me now turn me off
 fortune cookie with no message 
 is this how you felt the year our love died"

Photo Credits: Shivani Gupta (me)

"whatever part of Noah's ark or Attenborough's docu comes for this reclamation, I'm here for it. they can enjoy my supple thighs, roasted, curried or grilled i demand not to be boiled, i refuse to be a salt-and-pepper kind of meal. promise me you won't let me go unseasoned?"

"Don't tell me empathy is finite. I know forgetting is easier to come by than forgiveness But is that so bad? Come close, let me tell you its secrets. This world confessed it's atrophying Got a bad case of osteoporosis I guess crumbling is now an adjective?"

"my god comes home too late, stays in a glass cubed cell waits for darkness to declare him productive my god is a clumsy dancer gliding sockless on scratched forgiving floors my god knows my name and all the ways to breathe it"

"in the midst of performance appraisals and the impending red of misfortune, i put on a Haldi stained pot; handful of mustard seeds popping copious salting, restrained pepper, for the green chilli is coming * The price to integrate is to not rage at golden milk chai tea lattes assimilate: great, i did it. Did you also need me to lose myself?"

"coffee burns, tea stinks of cardamom calendar unturned, the pretense for relevance my favorite consumptions now turn on me now turn me off fortune cookie with no message is this how you felt the year our love died"