She tosses fistful of bleach into the vegetables simmering in the pan the foam
shores up
like the salt at the estuary in Marakannam In the town without a beach
where the land
lazily copulates with the sea the breeze
at the gopura vassal breathes into the womb of her memory
It is then she hears the machine in the depth of the lungs
like a hawk rasping not kissing didn’t protect her from the bursting heart
She lugs a bucket topples the water on the cracked red earth chafes
with harsh bristles till scraggy dreams
explode
the colors of sunset Does it feel lonely
when stars are harpooned one after another keel to reveal
squishy undersides
as the waves pale in a moonless night When the heat clams down
everything longs to escape –
the wheezing pig in the yard the wail of loss scratching the sky
My Garden 