POEM #3

my belly nurtures onions and turmeric and

cradles steeped tea

i wonder if i drown in it because

my mother lashes at my tamil

and my father at me

 

steakhouses with 150 seats

tamils grill pieces of meat

worth more than their bones

the canadian dream embroiled in meat

more than me

gold dust leaves tamil chains

because we can't eat our money

we must let it dangle from our necks

just as our sweat does

 

and we leave looking at ambilmama

in hopes that these craters are not what our children have to see

maybe that's why we go home to whiskey

and let it swarm our bellies to sleep.