in his head

In his head
he cleared space
dusted the chair, wiped the table
asked me to step in
he waded waist deep into the sea
carrying a bucket of fish, alive and roiling
in brine water, to feed his mother
blood ran down her head
rubies, she said, collecting them for ear studs
why do I think of the casuarina tree
the needle leaved truncations
that I learnt to stitch together as a child
the way he sutured his memory
to watch it splinter again and again
when I walked down the stairs
my wet skirt left trail like a snail
like a snake he said, making a hood with his hands
snake woman I said, snake charmer he said
playing his pipe
rocking to the note he heard
in his head.

Poem A Day

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