Anoushka Kumar
On Dreams
My parents say letting a cactus
into the home is a bad omen.
They say a plant like that lends you
rotten luck, false gods, motes
of dust so thick you work
in circles. An unquiet house
after all, is akin to dying
like a cotton daisy by the hands
of a spinning truck.
What’s all this, but a tenderness
you have since lost.
But there’s a cactus in my dreams— bulbous
and teething. It is a good cactus, like all houseplants.
I snip her thorns everyday, keep her warm, tell her the headlines:
what to do in the event of a rainstorm, how to wish
your husband away. This is the best I can do.
She listens gently knowing I expect little
in return. It is better to be sated
under a stubborn moon. No white noise.
Wide rooms, on the verge of enmity.
into the home is a bad omen.
They say a plant like that lends you
rotten luck, false gods, motes
of dust so thick you work
in circles. An unquiet house
after all, is akin to dying
like a cotton daisy by the hands
of a spinning truck.
What’s all this, but a tenderness
you have since lost.
But there’s a cactus in my dreams— bulbous
and teething. It is a good cactus, like all houseplants.
I snip her thorns everyday, keep her warm, tell her the headlines:
what to do in the event of a rainstorm, how to wish
your husband away. This is the best I can do.
She listens gently knowing I expect little
in return. It is better to be sated
under a stubborn moon. No white noise.
Wide rooms, on the verge of enmity.
Biography
Anoushka Kumar (she/her) is a student and writer from India, with work forthcoming or published in Vagabond City Lit, perhappened, the Ekphrastic Review, and elsewhere. Find her on Twitter @duskelegies.
