Posted by: Ron DuBour | January 19, 2016

MY GRAND MOTHER~by Anil Kumar Panda





I saw her face upside down as she wrapped
Me in her veil-wide and white; a doll of
Widow-hood; she pounded my navel with
Her palm; round and round, and applied oil;
May be of mustard of our land; I twisted my
Limbs in sweat pain; and grabbed her fingers;
They tickled me below my belly; she returned
My toothless smile with her innocent one as we
Tried to trick each other in the shadowy corner;
My fate is written across her wrinkled face; she
Held my feet, hanging me upside down, over
Her lap – pleated and coiled and kissed my feet;
I reached for her dry breasts hung loose and free.
The faces of my ancestors were itched on them.
Like deep tattoos to be carried away to her grave.
Now, her small head lie light on my broad lap.
Threads of indelible memory hung like serpents
Around her waist; I felt her pulse fearing that she
Might get burnt alive on the pyre, as she had been
For years under the cindering eyes of my grandpa;
The whistle of the approaching train woke me up
To weep on the perfumed shoulder of my mother.

@ Anil Kumar Panda


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