
Annesha Mitha is a multi-genre writer based in Chicago. Her work has been published in the Black Warrior Review, American Short Fiction, The Masters Review, McSweeney’s Quarterly Concern, and more. She is currently at work on a novel about nursing homes and purgatory.
Annesha Mitha
Sex After a Thunderstorm
If I stared at you too long
it’s because my eyes are
only borrowed from decay.
And I am on loan too, from
the museum that houses
foolish women.
A parachute of kisses descends
on my face, and like the
Earth I absorb all
deadly possibilities.
Somewhere in the storm-soaked
world —
someone is in more pain
than either of us could imagine.
Forgive us;
we make a shelter.
Pleasure shoplifted from the
world’s rotting face.
Pleasure is neither inherently good or inherently bad, but under the rising swell of capitalism it is usually stolen and usually temporary. I wrote this about a love that didn’t last, and I think part of me knew it wouldn’t last when I wrote it. This is about secreting pleasure when you most need it, even though the luck of a quiet moment of shelter can feel obscene. Let us all embrace our luck when we have it, and use its memory to fuel us when we don’t.
Glass: A Journal of Poetry is published monthly by Glass Poetry Press.
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