Nagamma ground spices
sitting on her haunches
next to a grinding stone
as big as an elephant’s foot.
Her mouth, blood-red from years of chewing pan,
made her look like she had eaten her way through a chili patch
or devoured a small animal.
My grandfather swore she stole from us
and my grandmother defended her
but not necessarily because she disagreed with him.
Nagamma and my grandmother fought about the price of milk,
about who left the gate unlocked,
about overcooking the rice,
about why there was less change than expected
when she came back from the market.
Behind her back, my grandmother would make a swigging gesture,
her thumb pointed toward her mouth.
My grandmother slept alone in the house after my grandfather died.
She would lie awake and listen for the sound
of Nagamma bumping into pots and pans
when she came home drunk in the middle of the night.
When Nagamma left the gas on by mistake
and neighbors suggested it was time to send her away
my grandmother insisted it was something that could have happened to anyone.
I saw Nagamma during her last years,
a bleeding, smiling Durga
my grandmother still making light of her drinking
until it got worse and Nagamma staggered home
stayed in her room behind the house for days and died.
But my grandmother reminded me
in her characteristically even pitch,
at least it was in a home and not a ditch.
Delirum (After Mary Oliver)
I am washed and washed in the river
of earthly delight
And what are you going to do
- what can you do about it -
deep blue night?
I.
I didn’t think I’d amount to much,
now look at us.
He said,
In the big house
we’ll have a separate room
for the piano
but it didn’t fit through the door.
He squeezed her hand tight
at the wedding of the 20-somethings.
When her hair is short,
and she wears it in a clip,
she could be a school girl and
not nearing sixty.
His hair is sparse and spiked.
He wears an odd glove to protect one hand
In the sun they share a chardonnay,
he can’t let her out of his sight.
This is lovely, lovely.
What are you going to do about it
deep blue night?
II.
Enormous intellect
incredibly high functioning
He is losing function,
losing function
They let him keep working
A prince of a man
A deadly combination
He fell in the bathroom in Hawaii
He doesn’t see it,
doesn’t see it
He said,
I just keep doing things
to prove I’m worth something.
III.
They go for walks
make veal from Tuscan cookbooks
and read things aloud from the newspaper
in the castle they built
for when they were old
and together all the time,
with the goldenrod in the fields
and the piano’s notes
alighting on the window sills.
He holds her in the stillness.
I am washed and washed
in the river of earthly delight.
What are you going to do
What can you do about it
deep blue night?
His children come to say goodbye,
one by one.
The house is messy
with their generosity.
She says, awake with me
just before morning,
while it is still dark.
I'll make the coffee
and we’ll listen for the sound of that bird
that only lives here on the preserve.
We’ll cup our hands around the warmth
and listen, listen really hard.
of earthly delight
And what are you going to do
- what can you do about it -
deep blue night?
I.
I didn’t think I’d amount to much,
now look at us.
He said,
In the big house
we’ll have a separate room
for the piano
but it didn’t fit through the door.
He squeezed her hand tight
at the wedding of the 20-somethings.
When her hair is short,
and she wears it in a clip,
she could be a school girl and
not nearing sixty.
His hair is sparse and spiked.
He wears an odd glove to protect one hand
In the sun they share a chardonnay,
he can’t let her out of his sight.
This is lovely, lovely.
What are you going to do about it
deep blue night?
II.
Enormous intellect
incredibly high functioning
He is losing function,
losing function
They let him keep working
A prince of a man
A deadly combination
He fell in the bathroom in Hawaii
He doesn’t see it,
doesn’t see it
He said,
I just keep doing things
to prove I’m worth something.
III.
They go for walks
make veal from Tuscan cookbooks
and read things aloud from the newspaper
in the castle they built
for when they were old
and together all the time,
with the goldenrod in the fields
and the piano’s notes
alighting on the window sills.
He holds her in the stillness.
I am washed and washed
in the river of earthly delight.
What are you going to do
What can you do about it
deep blue night?
His children come to say goodbye,
one by one.
The house is messy
with their generosity.
She says, awake with me
just before morning,
while it is still dark.
I'll make the coffee
and we’ll listen for the sound of that bird
that only lives here on the preserve.
We’ll cup our hands around the warmth
and listen, listen really hard.
Girlfriends (after Satyajit Ray)
The loyal heart
and deep struck love
a little bit of crazy
a little bit of blood
in hopscotch
in double-dutch
with chalk and beads
and make believe
on windowsills
in bud vases
over cats cradle
and séances
you see them in pairs
pink lipped, shadow exchanges.
I can’t remember the details now,
the precisely folded notes with curvy letters
and initials full of code and promises.
Everything was deeply believed.
I will lose you someday
and we will forget
the frightened hours,
the new sweat.
It’s the reason the director in the old Indian film
held the camera on the girl's face
in the scene of her childhood friend's wedding.
Just her face,
with the sound turned off.
and deep struck love
a little bit of crazy
a little bit of blood
in hopscotch
in double-dutch
with chalk and beads
and make believe
on windowsills
in bud vases
over cats cradle
and séances
you see them in pairs
pink lipped, shadow exchanges.
I can’t remember the details now,
the precisely folded notes with curvy letters
and initials full of code and promises.
Everything was deeply believed.
I will lose you someday
and we will forget
the frightened hours,
the new sweat.
It’s the reason the director in the old Indian film
held the camera on the girl's face
in the scene of her childhood friend's wedding.
Just her face,
with the sound turned off.
The Invitation
Candela, a light is on in the village.
Come with me and rest the night.
Tomorrow, we will wake before the drunken revelers
and walk over the hill to your father’s house.
We’ll say you lost your way,
and stayed with us - you were safe.
In the morning, the world will be fresh, green
and Candela, you will be wearing red.
Come with me and rest the night.
Tomorrow, we will wake before the drunken revelers
and walk over the hill to your father’s house.
We’ll say you lost your way,
and stayed with us - you were safe.
In the morning, the world will be fresh, green
and Candela, you will be wearing red.
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