Three Poems by Natasha Kochicheril Moni









When we arrived we didn’t say, I have arrived—

it was late on some accounts or none, depending. 


Every light in the cottage engaged, I turned off 

switch after switch, but so many remained. 


And you did what you do to draw 

fire from dormancy.


Your fingers on my wrist

—I decided on this—


the alarm detecting

more than implied heat—


a bra cast over 

a fold out—


I sing to myself in the threshold of rain.


We wake to birds of unknown name.





Because you bring me trouble cloaked in sorrow, bathed in fear 


I ask you 

to leave. 


You are playing Franco playing Ginsberg, leaving no one 

to play you. 


That I led you to my river, my church—forgive me. 

I wanted to drown 


in something rapid. 

Not you—your voice.


The inability to stay




If you are coherent, then I am a misplaced apricot.


Too long


I have been chasing my mind like a penguin lodged in a tree 

during the rain. 


There is simply no time for me 

to save you. 


My woods run deep as I erase the everything 

that will not take place.






When God returns screaming 


you might be slouched 

over the kitchenette


that was always too low—

your thumb overtop 

the Cirque de Soleil 


in Sunday’s paper.  

Maybe the wind 

through the window 


that never seals 

will inform you: purple

underwear is not enough—


there are no leis 

where you head only 

thin bands


of elastic to remind 

you of the girl

in high-school Spanish 


who snapped her bracelet 

to the tune

of La Cucaracha.


Maybe now you will

discover what 

you always suspected—


the witches butter 

that stained 

the cedar orange 


became the cedar

the elementary 

teacher who insisted 


caterpillars beget

blindness, returned 

as moth that never 


calibrates with bulb 

or moon or you 

might find yourself 


without question, 

facing the window.





Natasha Kochicheril Moni, a first-generation American born to native Dutch and Indian parents, writes and resides in the Pacific Northwest. In 2014, Natasha's first full-length poetry collection, The Cardiologist's Daughter, was published by Two Sylvias Press. Her poetry, fiction, essays, and reviews have appeared in over fifty-five journals including: Entropy, The Rumpus, Magma, Verse, DIAGRAM, Hobart, and Indiana Review. 

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