3 poems
by Vans Bano
Vans Bano is a poet, visual artist, and follower of flowers currently residing in Chandigarh, India. They like to write about nature, their body, and how their body is natural. More of their work can be found in Watermelanin Mag, Body Without Organs Journal, and @vildflower.
no such thing as a perfect first draft
let me tell you a story. on a warm
june evening you went out
for a walk & could not
take your eyes off the birds. you
looked up to the sky as you
said, what a blessing it must be
to be hollow. that night
you stood in front of the mirror
& tried to carve the desire out
of your bones, & every dream
spilled out like an oil stain,
which is to say: anything deep
as the ocean will also carry
its weight. let me tell you a
story. a flower is a flower
even as it loses a petal. and
another. even as the womb
of the soil turns into
a grave. & the flower is a flower
even as it expands, honey-slow
& honey-sweet & honey-
sharp, which is to say: you
cannot bloom until you take up
space. let me rewrite
the story. on a warm june evening
you went out for a walk & could
not take your eyes off the birds.
you looked up to the sky as you
said, i want more days like these. the poem
is not prayer, it is prophecy.
to consider:
my hair is still wet
from the last time i was
uncomfortable being naked
with myself.
sometimes i long for the
sea & sometimes i settle
for the lake instead.
the light is running out.
the light is running out.
the light is running
but it's
my heart that's feeling the burn,
jeans torn at the knees
from where i tried to fold myself
into a shape visibly
convenient.
which is to say, consider:
coming apart at the
seams.
my therapist calls me
a thread except i do not
know how to stitch myself
back together.
maybe i am the needle.
maybe i am the river
settling for the lake instead of sea.
which is to say, consider
a longing that does not
seem to fade away.
untitled
one time i made crystals
of copper sulphate in chem lab and carried them
home in my pocket except
sometimes i break my body
into crystals and carry it home
in my pocket.
my dentist told me i have too many teeth.
which is to say sometimes i clench my jaw without knowing. which is to say
sometimes i bite into my skin
and my blood tastes salty.
my body is bitter.
my body is a meal
kept in the wrong plate, something
you consume with no care for what it
tastes like,
something you consume
just to show me how well
you can spit it out.