Wildkeeping
written by: Sreemoyee Chanda
She carries the afternoon in her palms,
sticky with sap from a tree she climbed
just to see if the world might look different
three branches up.
She does not know the word girlhood.
To her it is the weight of a lucky rock,
the wind tasting of salt and bicycles,
a chipped marble kept like a museum piece,
a feather lifted from the creek,
the fading ink of a stranger’s name
crooked across her skin.
She moves through tall grass
not like a guest
but like the keeper of its noise,
unaware that the wildness she chases
is the same bright riot
beating inside her chest.
Latest posts by Sreemoyee Chanda (see all)
- Wildkeeping - April 9, 2026
- Underneath Her Vintage Letters - August 17, 2025



