The below texted is pasted from Leafe Press website


Get your copy from ‘The Saree Shop’ by Shringi Kumari or from the publishers: Speculative Books

Review of ‘The Saree Shop’ by Shringi Kumari, pub. Speculative Books. 86pp. £7.99 — by Alan Baker

Shringi Kumari is an…

(The depth is a trojan)

Throat, the epicotyl

As we sprout, the moistness of clay wraps all things shaped as fingers

Suction. An act of drawing in. The treachery of origin — mouth of a moment.

Parikrama. Thought caught in the bones. Cobbles sinking in amniotic fluid. Is and isn’t…

(The water feigns escape)

Bottle green, a tribune

As we wash, tree-tops are slipping into holes

Reversal. An act of flipping. The sophistry of folds — pivots of squeaky doors

Taabeer. Snag in a dream. Floating segments of hues. Is and isn’t another layer of skim. Is and isn’t in…

(The philosophy is a desert)

The traffic, a melee

As we think to absolve, the construction workers tap all the nails in order

Cancellation. An act of taking. The ruse of ownership — shutting widows

Antasten. Trickery of the touch. Sampling air through air. Is and isn’t in conclusion. Is…

(The fog is war)

Stone, a mothership

As we speak, the rain is anti-aliasing all that must have stayed jagged

Erasure. The act of pulling. The deception of nature – rolling curtains

Fernweh. Illusion of a sentence. Is and isn’t in disobedience. Is and isn’t in puncture. Is and isn’t…

The wind rushes onto piles and piles of cement. Her magnet jaw attracts all the flakes of thunder.

Yellow edges of a night roll outwards. A gelatine infused day finds too many suspended theories in its body. All the ships become sugar and the rivers become scraped dinner tables. A…


The gypsy stone doesn’t seem to find its strings. A ruptured alphabet seeks two tongues and five pairs of teeth. They march (remember their sand-beaten hips) balanced on their torched marble feet. A sheet of purples and blue swim faster than its fishes. The stone pounces on letters arranging…


Vilified illustrations
mask the minds canals
No birds sing but they just buzz around
in circular epiphanies
-possibilities of flight

I think of your amethyst paintings
the way you lay out autumn for these birds to feed
Words become anklets to this unrestful leg of a painter
her hands buzz over the paper

Shringi Kumari

Drifter; Poet. ‘The Saree Shop’ is my debut poetry collection.

Get the Medium app

A button that says 'Download on the App Store', and if clicked it will lead you to the iOS App store
A button that says 'Get it on, Google Play', and if clicked it will lead you to the Google Play store