January 1st
Tatiana Chaterji
The new year tastes like juicing citrus with my small children
Drag grandma’s mystery box from Christmas to the kitchen
Hold their breaths Which color will it be? Wait for the slice of blood
Red, golden sun, or dusky pink
Squeeze with all their might to collect the bright nectar
Twist and splash This is pulp! Fluorescence on the floor
Slurp through threads in our teeth the tangy sweet sharp
Rising of hopes as orange crescents pile on the counter
Tatiana Chaterji
Living with a traumatic brain injury from community violence and grieving the loss of too many students to the same, Tatiana Chaterji writes to set free the cycles of healing we need for freedom. She is an emerging writer, mother of two small children, conflict worker, educator, restorative justice practitioner and theater-based healer based on Ohlone land in Oakland, CA. Her essays and poems are featured in Seventh Wave, Indianapolis Review, Rise Up Review, The Rush, Panorama, and Voicemail Poems and forthcoming in Cherry Tree. Learn more at www.tatianachaterji.com.