Salvation Plea

By Trivarna Hariharan

O rain     ghosting
        inside   the earth— 
 
do not fail my  body. 
 
Lick me  like wool. 
Rend me un-
 
        knowable. 
 Bear me in the sac 
 
    of your hymns. 
    Wrench  me
     
   from the worms   
     luggaging  
     my hurt. 
 

Tell me  
how  to seep into
 
    a cave-palmed God.  

A fox  preening
    its  wanton fingers. 
 
 
Is there a way  
    not  
      to ashen 
        into light— 

 
a way
 for the body           
        
        to evade?
 
 
Into my dog-stained
 hearth— a raindrop 
 
   oozes from my
   
   fingers. 
 
 
I have  relented. 
Un- laced  my dread.
 
My body will be spared. 
I too have sown something

unnameable.

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Trivarna Hariharan is a gender-queer writer and pianist from India. She has studied English Literature at Delhi University and the University of Cambridge. A Pushcart Prize and Orison Anthology nominee, her poems are published or forthcoming in Duende, Entropy, Stirring, Atticus Review, The Hunger, Counterclock, Whale Road Review, The Shore, and others. She has authored two collections of poetry: Letters Never Sent (Writers Workshop Kolkata, 2017) and There Was Once A River Here (Les Editions du Zaporogue, 2018). Besides writing, she has received certificates of distinction in Electronic Keyboard from Trinity College, London. You can read more of her work at trivarnahariharan.com.