My grandfather’s housebears witness to the river’s ankletsdrunk by its songshe entices paddy fields and dusty dribblean enchantress who doesn’t age and never stoopsunallured by the coughing of an old red busred flags are raisedfor a plate of food and rusted brassfor every lump in the throat chokes and digsa grave for another old woman,oil soaks a school girl’s hairher red ribbons braided so tightthat she pays salutationto everyone she meets on the road.
The man hunched on the milestoneis her uncle who measuresthe length of her skirta few meters away the church bells ringand earthen lamps light a prayer for a sondaughters don’t get burial in this landwhere they are a liability.As I pass by, tasting another acrimony,I hope to never come back to this landwhere the soil is still orangeleeched by parasites so petrified.
Image: Girl in white in the woods, Vincent Van Gogh