An Avalanche of Heat by Vismai Rao
this June. & I wonder if that had something to do with it: your going away
with such urgency. All that ripened
in your absence: mangoes, the sweetest of papayas, the twelve
raw gooseberries
you left
in a jar of turmeric water. Three months after,
I took down the mint green curtains, moved the hutch to face the doorway,
the big couch against the bedroom wall.
Not a single blade of grass seemed to grudge
your leaving when I tore into the yard
with the lawnmower. In September, while the Siberian cranes
slowly returned to their winter home, I trained
to the southernmost tip of the peninsula where three oceans
merge into one. Grey rocks covered in seacrabs
resting reassured by the nearness of water. & in the distance, the horizon:
a single unbroken line pretending to be the end of this world—