Gnashing Teeth Publishing

| words that get in your teeth

It Might Be an Accident – Jen Gayda Gupta

Jen Gayda Gupta Author Photo

It Might Be an Accident

slip of the plastic T that guards
my womb, a zygote stronger
than fear, might happen before
I have seen the monkeys tightrope
electrical wires, eaten
the smelly fruits, felt the cold
temple floors, the gentle pull
of a cotton skirt behind me.

It might come out unfamiliar
and dripping cement, a slow leak
onto my feet, might glue me
to the carpet, its pattern ugly
and circular and burnt under my eyelids
as I pretend a moment of sleep.

Or it might forget a fire
in my uterus, melt me
from the inside out till I leak
lungs and liver, till I am stuck
to the hardwood, waiting to be
peeled off like dead skin.

It might come out talking
or crying accusatory sounds,
might scream that I smell
selfish. I might forget to write
or think or feed us.

I will want to carry it
in one large backpack, leave behind
the singing bathmat, the spoon
in the shape of giraffe, all of us
naked and cold and in search
of an airplane or legs that don’t

crumble. I might let nature
mother it, let the trees brush its hair,
let the mountains lift us closer
to wherever we came from.
Might let new countries teach it
new words on new days of the week.

I might find a whisper of seconds
tangled in the wisps of hair,
minutes tucked between the fingers.

It might be okay.

Bio – Jen Gayda Gupta is currently on the run from responsibility, living nowhere at all with her husband and their dog. She enjoys big mountains and tiny spoons. Her work has been published or is forthcoming in Dodging the Rain, Jellyfish Review, Sky Island Journal, The Shore, Wrongdoing and others. You can find her @jengaydagupta and jengaydagupta.com.

black and white photo of woman in black clothes with her back to the camera, wearing a white knit cap standing in the snow in front of trees

Feijoa Dreams by Ana Martinez

Things that didn’t stop the car bomb from going off near my grandmother’s house: A gentle childhood nestled with tucked-in nightly prayers and teddy bear kisses, framed by high ceiling

close up of woman wearing glasses with red listick and straight blond hair with a grey shirt

When Did I Know? by Maple Scoresby

As long as I can remember, every star that shot across the sky, every birthday candle I blew out, came with the silent wish that I would wake the next

crow in flight

The Crows Remember by Alex Grehy

My grandfather once shot a crow for the simple crime of stealing peas – he hung the body from the canes as a warning to the others. Already dressed in

connect

we love hearing from you. tell us everything

Skip to content