a grand aunt died
I went to see her body
and the people she left behind
so there was her tiny bird body
laid straight on the floor
'ah, death does not become her'
fly swatted that thought
then I noticed three grand daughters,
three dots on her sides, an elegant arrangement
their grief magnificent
how ideal to be loved
how satisfying to have people cry
you are gone and they are sad
they are sad you are gone
I felt happy
I wanted to congratulate her, so I did
no, I didn't think of who would grieve for me or how
what a thing
I thought instead, of
whether the tiny paper cups contained coffee or tea
how the day was, cloudy and sunny, a confusion, a mystery
what a beautiful home they had next door, with their potted plant garden and white painted grill,
how if I lived there, I may feel compelled to wear mallipoo,
or at least busy about with a towel holding my wet hair as I watered the garden and mumble-sang a prayer
is my cousin seeing anyone
how will my aunt manage her pain
who is this now
I chatted with a line of uncles sitting on the parapet wall
about small things
jobs children visas
in the midst of everything
small flashes of my self rose up and washed out
disturbing nothing
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