At the Edge of the World by Archana Sridhar

Poem title: At the Edge of the World Poet Name: Archana Sridhar Poem begins: I am going to make something exquisite, I told myself  in a dream: a letter-pressed bookplate or a mid-century maple chair or an obituary that makes the mourners weep.  The angels set down an invisibility cloak -  how could you not see a dead body? I think. A corpse so still it disappeared so it could have just a few hours of peace.  I pass a feral child on a front porch, alone,  long-haired (because haircuts aren’t allowed now).  He belts out a song, eyes boring into me,  hands reaching out like a star on a stage.   In the heavens, we welcome each other  to the teetering edge that feels  like the end of the world  as the pain ships off, a noxious agent that seeps in and then slips away from orange to crystal transparency. End of Poem. Credits: Copyright © Archana Sridhar Archana Sridhar is a South Asian poet and university administrator in Toronto, Canada. Archana focuses on themes of meditation, race, motherhood, and diaspora in her poetry and flash writing. Her work has been featured in The Puritan, The Hellebore, Barren Magazine, and elsewhere. Her chapbook “Renderings” is available through 845 Press, and her writing can be found at www.archanasridhar.com