My Mother’s Saree
some nights, my mother’s saree enters quietly,
unannounced, swirls and curls like incense
she spins me around, fitchecks my form,
spits, tamps down cowlick, makes it stick
my mother’s saree goes about her business,
inspects room by room, scoffs at unpicked socks,
unmade bed, unwashed laundry & unread books
she runs fingers on surfaces, tut-tuts the dust,
groans at clouded windows & dish-piled sink
my mother’s saree blindfolds my ego, masks
my fears, holds my tongue, enters my right ear
& comes out clean the other side
she pulls at my nose, massages my shoulders,
dissolves my pain, rubs Vicks on my chest,
cradles me gently & long like a baby in a sarong
my mother’s saree reminds me of broom & cane,
to look-left-look-right & look-left-again, of crossings & crosses,
constancy of purpose & leaps of faith
she churns my heartache, spots the real yearnings
from the fake, cackles at my longings
& resigned fate
my mother’s saree gets dramatic, makes like the weather:
wind & rain, sweat & swelter, whispers to me of seeking sun,
shade & shelter
she rattles on: rinse & repeat, watch & learn,
be grateful, forgive, but never forget, do or don’t do
& which part of No did you not get?
my mother’s saree is the tie that forever binds
i can’t tell silk from cotton, truth from spin,
until she unfurls in
she is grief that enters, checks in & checks out
she incepts & interrupts, wraps like a wreath,
bundles like a blanket, cuddles & coils,
then stabs like a foil
my mother’s saree leans close,
blows a mote in my eye,
makes me blink, then winks
she exits as she came, treading lightly
i beg her to stay, but she just sashays away
Watermelon
After Charles Simic, Pablo Neruda
Inside you is a red ocean–
Outside a green zig-zag of unenvious emotions
We see you – where you were scarred by the sun
Yet you persisted by sheer, thirst-trapping will
Like a wondrous womb you bloomed
Your seeds hungry to perpetuate your lineage
Come hither, you beckoned, a buxom temptress
And we were sucked in, and cracked you open
Your quenchy-crunch mesmerizing,
we were slobbery slakers, dribbling chin-drippers
We even salted and sweetened you,
as if your sugary lushness was not enough
But you paid the price for this selfless sacrifice
We had our fill and never settled the bill
Your petite pips bore the indignity of spittle
A game, perhaps, you induced to pitch them
like pocket rockets afar
And you taught them to swim, traverse through
windy nethers to be expunged, booted and flushed
A relentless quest to find fresh earth
for your spunky progeny to root in
Always a generous giver, you kept us cool even in heat
like a regenerating promethean liver
Sliced to smile, you are our crimson cleanser,
our summery pink-of-health restorer
We are forever entwined, both mostly water–
made up of saccharine juices of the divine
Until we shuffle off these mortal rinds,
and return to the waters, the river,
that sea of brine
Julian Matthews’ train of thought is constantly in danger of derailment. He hobo-hops on and off this loose caboose, unloading its cognitive baggage one sleeper at a time. Julian traded in his coat and tie as a corporate trainer for the destitution of being a journeyman poet. But feels privileged and grateful at this station of his life to share his scribblings with fellow passengers, and is humbled, if somewhat chagrined, in not knowing when he will ever arrive. https://linktr.ee/julianmatthews
The Marbled Sigh 