by Heather Haigh
Fruits of Practice
My chakras are
strawberry red, luscious and plump in my root
an orange bursting in my sacral center
a rough-skinned pineapple in my sternum
a tart granny smith in my heart
a single blueberry between my eyes
and a wreath of grapes above my head
but for my throat, my voice—
the unexpected—
a purple yam? an inky carrot?
an underground vegetable
formed in the dark
where truth sprouts towards the light.
V. Bray has been a writer since childhood and still has a box filled with her first “books,” usually illustrated with markers and bound with yarn. She writes in many genres, from speculative and historical fiction to poetry. Her work has been published in About Place Journal, Halfway Down the Stairs, Multiplicity Magazine, and The Writer. Learn more at authorvbray.com.
Heather Haigh is a sight-impaired spoonie and working-class artist, photographer and writer from Yorkshire. She has visual work published by Pithead Chapel, Sunlight Press, Midnight Fawn Review, Dulcet, Viridine and others. Find her at: https://x.com/HeatherBookNook
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