i s s u e: 2

// p o e t r y

Neighbor, how can we have a home like yours?
by Prannoy Nambiar

Your fences stand straight, neatly white.
One might forget they keep the scavengers away.
So uniform and green is the garden you keep.
Every flower and plant has its own tune yet
they sing in unison.
Your interior spaces exude quiet peace.
Even late after sundown when
night terrors may fool us in the darkness,
your windows glow warm light
in serene meditation.
Now see our lawn!
Brown. Scorched. Haggard.
The screen door is torn,
cracking off its hinges.
Windows dusty, smudged,
our chests sink in shame.
Our rage has lost its container:
Your land is a siren
So painful in its beauty that we must agree
to sever our shared boundary.








about the author // Prannoy Nambiar

Prannoy (he/him) is a writer based in Brooklyn, NYC. He wrote his first poem at the age of ten, inspired by the full moon. He writes poetry everywhere, especially on receipts.

Instagram: @prannoyn