Yellow Lamp: First Thursday Poems by Anuja & Georgie

We return with a fourth edition of First Thursday Poems! This month, we feature the incredible Anuja Mitra and Georgie Silk. Both of these poets will be featured at our next show, Vol. Friday' on the 24th April. Tickets can be purchased here.

Because the tarot cards say I suffer from spiritual poverty by Anuja Mitra

I have taken to counting my blessings.

I count the cloud, the grass, the barking dog.

I count the rain I resent that does not resent me.

what poem is not a poem about seasons?

we stumbled into june with every reservation.

I used to have convictions.

now all I do is question them.

once there was rhythm to the weather,

a belief the what ifs wouldn’t happen.

we could still save all this,

build a refuge for each wild thing.

last january it flooded here

and hardly snowed in new york.

ungrateful perhaps to yearn

for the sun of another city. forgive me.

what poem is not a poem about violence?

a story where I can’t make peace with unease.

even so. I go to count the unmown daisies,

the host of sparrows in flight.

future is a word with a promise in it.

you must be content without an answer.

you must become part of the asking.

Anuja Mitra lives in Tāmaki Makaurau/Auckland. Her poetry and prose have appeared in local and international publications, including Landfall, takahē, Cordite, Turbine | Kapohau, Poetry Aotearoa Yearbook, Sweet Mammalian, Starling, and several anthologies. Her debut chapbook, Bruised History, will be published as part of AUP New Poets 12. She can be found on Instagram @anuja_mitra

Jealousy as a good feeling by Georgie Silk

I complimented Ally’s new handbag as she sits at our café table.

My best friend, Ally, went into labour on her birthday.

Her mother gifted her a sage leather bag

still wanting to celebrate her, despite the imminent birth.

Now, her 2-month-old daughter

is in her carrier beside us, still fast asleep.

Her little arms reaching upwards,

sleeping, but as if wanting someone to hold her hand.

Ally had dressed the baby in a bodysuit

with little dachshunds on it.

Perhaps just for me.

Knowing I would notice and comment

on the small little dogs across her arms and chest.

I eat a chicken sandwich at 9 am.

Ally eats a blueberry muffin;

she’s been awake for hours already.

My best friend is a mother

yet it feels like we are back at high school,

before the morning bell goes and class starts.

Instead of discussing assignments, she’s breastfeeding her baby.

I want my own baby.

I’ve felt so close to Ally all my life.

Through all our transitions

as classmates, as peers, as university students,

as colleagues, as best friends

and I already feel such love for this baby, I don’t know yet

because she is Ally’s baby

and so, she is perfect.

I will attend all her childhood birthday parties and watch her grow.

My other friends have children, but this little daughter

makes me emotional.

Makes me maternal.

Makes me believe -

well, if Ally can do it, maybe I’ll be a mum one day too.