1.At the Dinner Table br br On the thick br mutton gravy, thickened br more by her love, touching br my tongue, I spring br from my spring-less chair and imprint br lip prints on her tired cheeks. br Inside, in her br dried garden, dried on br giving and giving, all br she could as much br as she can, fresh br springs sprout, soils br replenish, seeds br germinate and plants br and flowers fill; br While her Face, adorned br with sweat, sweat of br priceless, unsung sacrifices br of a female Atlas, shouldering br her world, sparkles br like a sunflower in br the summer's rain. br br 2.Long-Distance Phone Call br br Her distant Voice br when kiting br my name is never ever br a formless voice but br a gentle hook that br slides through br my ear and throat and br pulls that tiny br piece of heart, br that wakes br not to beauty br or gold, br to jump and squat br and jump and squat... br like a tide to br a far away moon. br br 3. At the Temple br br Sandwiched between other devotees, br we tread like a huddle of penguins, br towards the inner sanctum sanctorum, br where Durga adjusts her silk and gold br after her early morn Sandal Abishegam, br behind a sacred screen of golden silk. br br On the screen's recess, the air br creams with andante of temple bells, br uplifting Todi raga of nadaswaram, br recorded hypnotic repetitions of Om, br Sanskrit cantillation of main priests, br and condensed prayers of devout men; br br While we, like all others heighten br toes, penetrate air and adjust necks br till our sight locks to Durga's glittering br face, illuminated by over a hundred br tiny flames. There, She shows me br her God; I show the stones, Mine.