Diya Mehta







“Sangre de Las Mariposas”

They paint with   Their fingertips;  slowly but surely, making no 

haste.    Wisps of silky color,  a paintbrush of gold.

Xanadu awaits seemingly close;   the watercolor bleeds.   

Little light. The smear of powdered vermillion.   

The parchment walls   crackled with a deep clap of thunder

horses hooves pound; loudly, loudly, loudly. 

The taste of tart lemon peals  illuminates the forgotten shadow 

of The Predecessor   and all that remains is hollow.  

There was a time that the flowers were ashes, yet now the thorn pricks

  and a scar is inevitable.  A beautiful wax oozes till pressing thumbs 

burn;  the lines etched in my palm are eternal. The chocolate

of a milkier shade  is now a far richer one, painfully bitter. The potpourri 

of memory scorches my curdled hands;   an ebony maple heaves 

tediously, though the fruits borne are sweet. Blood, Lōhī;

opulent in fathomless ways, dirties hands once pure as the 

driven snow. Now it’s blushing waves of anger   fervid and vehement; 

coal embers running stuck at the back of a throat;   eyes prickling

with lunula-shaped tears. The shackles of   melancholy age like

a fine Lagavulin splashing against   crumbling rocks; crinkling softly. 

Generous, yet Her most vulnerable, conspicuous petrichor 

  laces through mundane and salty fingertips; lingering. Oleander crimson 

conceals within the coarse woven fibers; rook, bishop, knight. Feeble 

they  sway coloring the bereft night with splintering crystal 

sugar but not the stars,   still scintillating. Forevermore They dance, 

quivering with insecure plight; a pastel of iridescent silver wanders. 

Blackened  toes mercilessly spill; the powder.   The lazy streaks

sharpen with a bland focus; the murmur of mariposas akin; until

 The Charcoal gasps for the ode of Poisson Rouge.


Diya Mehta is and always has been a voracious poet, reader, and writer; she currently resides in Paradise Falls complete with her very own set of balloons. She enjoys learning about new philosophies and devouring an immense amount of Sylvia Plath literature.