The Poetry Marathon

Dear L,

i didn’t know when
you moved houses

a few blocks further
we’d never meet again

not even by chance
but that’s how it was

do you remember
how we guilt-tripped

ourselves every time
we scolded our children

before school time
and how we shared the same

birthday, and our
frustration with our husbands

you remember, don’t you
they told me – when

i came to visit
after your failed attempt

i had heard and so wanted
very much to see you

– that you wouldn’t be
able to stress your body

in any way, but i tried
to convince them

they let me stand
at the ICU window

and told me to wave
but you looked blank

as a freshly white washed wall
my broadest smile couldn’t

reach the darkened areas of your mind
you’d forgotten or chosen

not to remember
our friendship

hope you recover soon,
your rainbow.

grandma in her rocking
chair knitting sunflowers
the color of
cheddar cheese
knitting sunflowers
because that’s what she
knew best to work
on her knitting loom

from where i lay
on the rug the pattern
seemed dark, distant
space but when i
squinted an oak it became

i scratched the rug
with my finger nail
present
to grandma creating
worlds in patterns of wool

grandmother weaves a story
around her mother’s birth

ten score years ago
a little house
a darkened room
airless
mud walls absorb
and reflect
the screams
of a terrified young girl
beads of sweat soaking
the bedding leaving
dark patches
and finally the dai ma
arrives with her years
of experience
confident hands
coax the mother-to-be
to breathe and push
and push and breathe
and the slimy mother
of my grandmother
is born without
a whimper in her
Dai ma whispers
in an ancient tongue
ancient words of life
and holding the mother
of my grandmother
upside down
gives a gentle pat
on her back
and whispers there too
then she readies
the mother
to nurse the baby
once more she whispers
to the silent mother
of my grandmother
while the young mother
watches uncomprehending
one more back rub
a blowing into the mouth
and the mother
of my grandmother
gasps, then mewls
dawn breaks
the silence of the room

the bees swarm
around their hive
the scouts have located
a new home

they pause midair
for directions
drawing on the scent
of scout pheromones

the bees guide
their old queen
to the new place
keeping her cool and safe

surrounded by her loyal
bees the queen enters
her new quarters
and rests

the busy bees
busier than ever
get to work
making a new honeyhome

i tug at mama’s sleeve
she’s stopped walking
and is staring
at the hotel entrance
i feel her body go stiff
there’s a couple
framed in the doorway
of the hotel
doing a couple thing
and mama can’t stop
looking
mama, what’s wrong
she doesn’t seem to hear
as the couple come apart
her eyes two pinpoints
deeply focused

and the man
suddenly tumbles
down the steps
she drags herself closer

i follow unwilling
it’s papa, i whisper
on seeing his face
But she clucks,
and pulls me away
walking briskly
i want to ask
if there is some mistake
but she’s smiling
humming
i follow
disturbed
confused
she’s still smiling
when we get home

a slight wiggle

a semi stretch

my body tenses

then releases

wet water world

slime slimy me

skin slippery

downy

curl up into a ball

breathe in fluid

in in

no taste yet

another wiggle

move that knee

grab the toe

the big toe

suck on it

ah, this is life

swimming

stretching

sinking

Last year, I got to know about this challenge just two days earlier and I jumped in, not knowing whether I would swim or flounder. I did stay afloat with admirable support from the community of marathoners and some comfort foods. It’s one day in the year when I let go. Cheering all the participants as you warm up.

poets have been mysteriously silent
on the subject of cheese
a great man once wrote
hence my attempt to set
things right
for cabbages and kings
have been mentioned
in the same poetic line
why not cheese and the president
surely one eats the other
and which one that is
we can be quite certain of

matters of state
cannot be decided
on empty stomachs
and MacCheese was a favorite
with one president, it’s said

but an internet search
reveals far better types of cheese
brie, camembert, gruyere
i learnt of them in my French
lesson many years ago
and there’s goat cheese, i’ve heard
someone (famous) swear by it
and blue cheese
though it did not look
blue to me

if you asked me
(and in a way you have)
i’d say cottage cheese
is by far the best
and sweetest kind
so when you shop next
in the cheese aisle
do remember to pick
cottage cheese
aka paneer
and do a light
marinade and grill
nothing better
for worse, there’s always MacCheese

the rain comes down in bunches and bursts

the trees are silent witnesses

the pond beyond receives it

gratefully and then swells

in fullness and pride

peacocks arrive

strut their wares

silence

now

she speaks to me

simple words

nothing earth-shattering

and a fog of anger

detaches from my mind

releases its clutches

through no effort

of mine