An Old Woman's Morning Poem by Divya Sachdeva

In slumber
I hear
loud cracks
and rumbles
of thunder
which wake me up
with a silent jerk
Tempted to consume
the in-consumable
I rub my eyes
with wrinkled
clay like fingers
forcing them to open
I yawn deep and wide
into morning’s fresh mouth

Brewing
the dark brown
coffee beans
with my shaky old hands
I pause
to look out
for to be aroused
by the sensation of
the verdure
only pleasure
I, this old woman
could sense.

Lost in
ramblings
and wander-lusting thoughts
suddenly
an un-noticed
an uninvited memory
blends itself
secretly
into my cofee mug

I sip them
my thoughts
light brown in color
and with
sinful aroma
like the
the froth of
my cappaccuino
They drag me
to the transition
when
my face began
to be lined
in geometric styles
crossing me
left to right
skin sagged
like loose sand bags
warped from
head to toe
and I began
to fade.
Resisted
the wrinkled skin
and the wrinkled mind

Tried hard
to peel off
scrape it
and scour
from my body
but
unrelenting

Certain
that something
fresh and young
lays under
Scraped and scrubbed
from neck to toe
Nothing changed
but
when I scrubbed
my mind
the age peeled off
like epicarp’s demise


(2011)