To replay errors

the revolving door of days

Now it's over

There's no one point thank god in the turning world 

I was always moving

tired too but laughing

To be a widow is an old

freedom I have known

vidua paradisea    a bird

Singly I flew

and happiness was my giraffe 

in the face of Africa

me among daughters

and my son at work

me pregnant with them

taking in the glamour days

town and country mirabella elle vogue

cosmopolitan    We have made this world

brown  these beautiful women

laughing and crying till we cleared the dining table

In hotels men asked my girls to fetch them towels

In restaurants they asked us for bread

Today I'm a civil servant on the Hill



From the Mall what colorful sarongs

my children bring to drape my ankles

the gifts we give

to Mina a necklace of Mikimoto pearls

Tara a Paloma purse for cosmetics

Lata a pair of lime shoes for the miles

Devi gives me her eclectic lit eyes

the glamour of our wilder regions

Bombay weavers on the twenty-four hour looms

shocking pink is the navy of India



Listen I am listening

my mind is a trip

I flew over oceans

I flew in the face of skies

orienting my loss of caste

my dark complexion

the folly of envy

wishing all my life to be fair

My jealous god leaves

Hello son this is your mother

Daughters take these maroon saris 

these maroon bras

I am proud to have borne you

When you gather around me

newness comes into the world