she is still young enough
to remember the bougainvillea
on the eaves old men
shuffling in the breezeway
how paan dyes the teeth
red & black
those rictus grins
at three my scope
a different sort of internal
this prairie
leaves her hollow her hands
riffling the spice cupboard
for turmeric cardamom
& the sari silks
preserved like butterflies
how a cedar trunk can be
big enough to hold a world
Dar-Es-Salaam its blossoms
& fragrance
& that a seven-month cold spell
limns the bones
what she taught us:
sparrow’s endurance in ice-blind trees
bone rattle of memory & winter
