Shivani Mehta

Poignant, sincere, witty, surreal, and relatable, her poetry takes me to the place where language fails and emotions sing, where myth, story, and memory begin. I only wish her books would never end. She is like a glass of ice water in the desert: improbable, beautiful, and miraculous. —Nin Andrews

Sample Poems

THE BUTTERFLIES

You unzip my dress, a curve from the side of my left breast to the top of my hip. My body is a column of butterflies. One by one, roused by the light and cool air, they wake from sleep. One by one they open their wings, answering the instinct to be free. They scatter in all directions; I learn what it means to be in many places at once.

~ ~ ~

THE MAN

When I saw the little guy, nose pressed to the glass wall of his cage, I knew I had to have him. He was just what I’d been looking for, as tall as a ball-point pen when clicked open. He weighed no more than a sprig of black sage when I lifted him, placed him in the breast pocket of my shirt where he settled, nestled into the warmth of my body. I wondered if marsupial mothers felt like this, if they gestated their miniscule babies as I carried my little man, forgetting he was there until he moved, jabbed a hand or foot into the side of my breast. That first evening in my apartment we got acquainted over spaghetti and meatballs. I opened a bottle of champagne, poured him half a thimbleful. He ate five crumbs from my plate and a sliver of shaved parmesan the size of a clipped fingernail. I take him everywhere, dress-shopping, tucked into my waistband at the gym, on dates with other men. They never know he’s there, pressed into my cleavage. At the office, I set him in a glass jar on my desk. He naps for much of the morning, sliding between the folds of an old dishtowel. Every evening, after supper I sit on the balcony, let him perch on my shoulder. I’m so happy, he murmured once, his breath teasing my earlobe, his fingers tickling my neck like a cat’s whiskers.

Praise for The Required Assembly: Prose Poems

The good news is that prose poetry, after years of being shunned as the ugly duckling sibling of “real” poetry, has now become commonplace. The bad news is that much of it is undisciplined—overwritten, devoid of interesting leaps, and linguistically stale. So imagine my glee when I came upon Shivani Mehta’s memorable new collection, The Required Assembly. In these minimalist beauties Mehta proves that the tiny is enormous as she effortlessly (and sometimes playfully) moves between myth and reality, both of which often seem interchangeable. The book is also an imaginative autobiography, with seemingly real-life experiences made folkloric through sudden linguistic and thematic surprises, while also being people by stand-ins for the author such as the “woman with a birdcage on her head,” the “Invisible Girl,” and the “Woman Who Is Sawed in Half.” Charles Simic, another minimalist, once wrote, “The poem I want to write is impossible. A stone that floats.” In The Required Assembly, Shivani Mehta has created an entire book of such poems.

—Peter Johnson, co-editor of Dreaming Awake: New Contemporary Prose Poetry from the United States, Australia, and the United Kingdom

Every now and then I come across a poet who reminds me why I love poetry, who possesses some indefinable, magical quality that makes me want to read her poems, not once but again and again. Shivani Mehta is one of those poets. I don’t know how she does it—in just a few lines, she holds me captive. Poignant, sincere, witty, surreal, and relatable, her poetry takes me to the place where language fails and emotions sing, where myth, story, and memory begin. I only wish her books would never end. She is like a glass of ice water in the desert: improbable, beautiful, and miraculous.

—Nin Andrews, author of Son of a Bird

We are privileged to see a new collection by Shivani Mehta. Mehta is undoubtedly one of my favorite contemporary writers, especially of the surreal prose poem. Mehta effortlessly astounds with inimitable, haunting beauty. Dream logic, lush landscapes, pure and timeless magic all exist in Mehta’s work. Mehta’s prose poems are at once visceral, illuminating, unpredictable, multifaceted, and evocative. We are encountering a rare and dynamic talent. No hyperbole here, at all. Mehta is a singular voice and talent. The Required Assembly is one of my favorite books I’ve ever read, along with her first collection.
—Jose Hernandez Diaz, author of The Parachutist

Praise for Useful Information for the Soon-to-be Beheaded: Prose Poems

“The marvelous prose poems in Shivani Mehta’s debut collection live at the intersection of language and imagery. Even if you won’t be losing your head anytime soon, Useful Information for the Soon-to-Be Beheaded should be mandatory reading for anyone interested in spending some time with a wild imagination set to beautiful use.”  

—Rick Bursky, Author of Death Obscura  

“Shivani Mehta’s Useful Information for the Soon-to-Be Beheaded is full of useful information on how to write a prose poem. Mehta strikes a perfect pitch between memory and magic. These are separate poems in the fabulist tradition, but the book also has interwoven threads that form a tale or a novel in prose poems.  Her opening sentences are doors that open on surprise. Her last sentences spring open and shut like a trapdoor beneath your feet, and you find yourself falling, falling and pleasingly confounded.”

—Richard Garcia, author of Chickenhead: Prose Poems