Preeti Vangani is an Indian poet & essayist. Her work has been published in BOAAT, Buzzfeed, Noble/Gas Qtrly, Threepenny Review among other journals. She is the winner of the RL Poetry Award 2017 and her debut book of poems Mother Tongue Apologize was published by RLFPA Editions in February 2019. She holds an MFA in Writing from the University of San Francisco.
The alarm started crowing while I was still haggling
with reappearances
of the missing. I said sshh sshh sshh, I said just five more
to the rooster clock. But it wouldn't stop crying
until I smacked its red crown
and the beak broke into have an egg-cellent day.
Fool's day. Or the first day without mother. Look,
there she is, at the sink,
spiraling with the water that just touched my face
even to say ma is to look at a series of reflections
in a fun house mirror —
a part of me elongated by a slight fall
of light. There's enough sun to drown in but never enough
to time travel to yesterday
and give it a kiss. Don't worry about me she said, (my name),
nestled between names of lush summer fruits.
Still life beckons, so I continue to trace:
the skin, the sweetness, the pit inside.
I have been battling with the idea of memory and movement. And finding ways and means to capture the movements of those that are not among us anymore. It always reminds me of the still life drawings we were made to do in school. An assemblage of just three unassuming objects and how they look different depending on how the light falls on them. While writing this poem, I was trying to re-capture the remnants of my mother’s image in the transient light that exists between a last dream and waking up.