The night was just like any other br In the dim lit veranda flies buzzed br My mother’s skin burning hot br She lay motionless on the torn mat br My father hovered over her with bare feet br Green herbs he pressed to her lips br Threw angry glances at me br I cried as not to wake her up br It is only her milk filled breast I seek br They whispered in the dark corners br Bundled in a old sari smelling of her sweat br Wrapped with calloused hand in rage br They didn’t have to dig for long br I smell earth fresh and wet br Cold unlike my mother’s full womb br It is darker than the night br Soothing somehow br My mother did not even know my name br To my father we were all the same br Womb to grave by the passing night br Having no penis, even before it began, I lost the fightbr br Reshma Rameshbr br