When I collapse on the couch ready to rest, my cat comes with his tail held high./ A cloud of black fur with a squeaky meow and loud purr. / He settles by my side, unaware of the joy and comfort he brings...
When my mother speaks of how my father has hurt her over the years, / She acts as if each time is the first. As if him being a bastard / Is something she never saw in him before...
Music is anodyne, but what compares / to our rice steamer’s ‘hissing’? Oh! that sound / flies to each corner, even down the stairs, / and makes our home a curry-cooker’s ground...
Congested footpaths slowed us down that day. / The sun, imperious, laughed during noon / And mocked our plodding as we made our way / To your most-stopped-by marketplace that June...
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