Equity Sonnet

A man who lives in the mountains tells me the Gods residing in the mountains

differ from the Gods in the plains in their momentum [                                   ]

All our thirst has a singular source. [                                     ] in the barren soil

still uncovered with snow. Everywhere you go, history is waiting to one-acquaint.

What is truer than these material threads, leading to a dream of transcendence?

How will [                                              ]? The question is distracted by a window.

I recite the seasons like silk against the body. The rituals are music: in the still air.

Because beyond the body, [                                     ] the Gods have gifted us love.

I want to soak love [                  ] iron [              ] fold love [           ] like a blanket.

I don’t have anything I want to forget. No memory [                       ] or viscosity.

I can dream the sound of rivers [                                       ] which have no comp-

letion because they are incessant. When a metal burns [                        ] release of

the sea into more folds [                      ] the fruits grow sweeter. Tomorrow, I will

know a language in which we can speak without the necessity of words. The Gods

are with me near the kitchen table. This harvest, too, is a momentum.

Sneha Subramanian Kanta is the author of Ghost Tracks (Louisiana Literature Press, 2020). She is the recipient of the inaugural Vijay Nambisan Fellowship 2019. She was the Charles Wallace Fellow writer-in-residence (2019-20) at The University of Stirling. Her work has appeared in Cream City Review, Pleaides, The Carolina Quarterly, and elsewhere. She is the founding editor of Parentheses Journal. Website: www.snehasubramaniankanta.com.