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Kitchen Sink Apocalypse
​by Sreeja Naskar

I’m peeling an orange & the world’s ending & the juice is stinging a hangnail on my thumb but I don’t make any movement to stop because once I do, the room changes its axis, the floor becomes a mouth that will soon swallow me whole so my fingers continue digging the white pith which is everywhere under my nails and reeks of cheap fake summer. Except it isn’t summer, and joy joy joy // good evening, I don’t love our love anymore, so guess I’ll run back to where we began and replace desire with everything mundane and soggy like the breakfast cereal you nearly missed this morning on your way to work. I crawl around the local art museum, lick the stone, let the salt lick my scarred knees, don’t curse more than twice in a minute; and decide it’s time to label the if-s and maybe-s hanging like open mouth around us. The TV screams static in front of me & I think if I get this one segment clean, with no strings attached to it, maybe the sky wouldn’t collapse today but alas, my veins are everywhere, I’ve lost my sense of direction, and my hands are sugar-trapped, fuck. It’s cloying, it’s a funeral but all I want is to love. Peel my heart and lay it alongside the wet pulp on the table. Do you remember what it felt like when I grew birds in my hair but couldn’t make my lungs chirp? Guilty, guilty // goodbye // mama, I’m scared, I’m sorry, there was no way the house caught fire and father left us alone in the dark, ​with no love to cradle & no one to love.

Sreeja Naskar
A proud keychain collector, Sreeja Naskar lives in India and writes poems that have somehow made their way into The Best of the Net Anthology, ONE ART, Brilliant Flash Fiction, The Wise Owl and Temz Review.  She is unsociable by design and is currently busy ignoring her actual responsibilities. Please do not look for her on social platforms, as she isn't there.

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  • Home
    • Poetry
    • Translations
    • Fiction
    • Interviews
    • Essays
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  • Masthead
  • Issues
    • Us v. World Revisited
    • Fall 2026
    • Spring 2026
    • Fall 2025
    • Spring 2025
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    • Spring 2024
    • Fall 2023
    • Spring 2023
    • Fall 2022
    • Summer 2022
    • Exilé Sans Frontières
  • AR Tunes
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