I have tried living up to the instructions
handed down in the farm manual.
Weed growth must be kept in check, it said.
I uprooted it with a thread.
Treat it with herbicides, it said.
I poisoned it with scorching wax.
Mow it away as soon as it begins to fester, it said.
I severed it with a razor.
Take care not to disrupt the soil, it said.
I applied aloe-vera in the aftermath
to soothe broken skin.
Yet, it grows.
I pluck it, stab at it.
It sprouts back every time in unwelcome places.
The manual isn’t very pleased.
venus shadows
on the crop of my body hair
a swarm of locusts.
Nishtha is a law student who believes there can never be enough written about celebrating vulnerabilities. Her works have been published or are forthcoming in the Emerge Literary Journal, the Teen Belle Magazine, the Mid-Heaven Magazine, the Versification Zine, among others. She also helps as a reader at the Marias at Sampaguitas Magazine. When not writing, she can be found dilly-dallying her way through college assignments. Follow her on Twitter @ladakoo_vimaan
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