Grandmother: A Prose Poem

Bony fingers poked through grains of rice one by one picking stones smooth like hardened snot, moved one bead after another, feeling the smoothness between fingers, name of god in the chest framed by fleeting luminescence.

She threaded a day to another,
placed the heap as offering
before assuming a dying posture.

Advertisements

2 thoughts on “Grandmother: A Prose Poem

  1. So many grandmas we know, which one have u written about? The grandma in nungambakkam house who served such exquisite mour’n’jaadam with lemon pickle to a group of hungry cousins who blew the whistle from the back door every time a bus stopped at the nungambakkam bus stop? Or the grandma who took us to kapaleeswarar temple surrounded by the mullaipoo, jackfruit n cycle rickshaws, or te grandma who had analysed the cause and effects of Ramayana and mahabharatha and revealed those secrets while we served food or cleared up the place doing ‘echhil’? Or ….

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s