Published by Rising Phoenix Review,

National Gold Medal Winner at 2020 Scholastic Art and Writing Awards.

Who like sporting bindis and calling them “eye-dots”, 

the california sun melting their makeup as 

they breathe in the desert air. 

Wouldn’t it be funny, if your third eye just 

happened to open that day, and a fleshy indian snake 

slithered down your spray-tanned neck, 

hissing in your ear,

as an elephant tail whacked the iced kombucha 

out of your hand. 

Wouldn’t it be funny if you happened to find

a thread of prayer beads in your matted hair, 

and your skin started to look purple and 

there was the stinging tip of Shiva’s trident

nearly piercing the flesh of your chest.

Wouldn’t it be funny, if suddenly the culture

you’ve enjoyed picking apart just happened 

to cling to you, in a way that isn’t 

normal (to you)

directed (at you)

or perhaps most importantly, 

convenient (for you)