Not That I Was Reading My Hands For The First Time Poem by Rati Saxena

Not that I was reading my hands for the first time
but this time the lines that run down from the neck till the hands
looked a little too deep, deep enough to keep afloat the boat of
age
Looking timidly into the mirror, written in the style of Hebrew
I found a poem about time, which I failed to read
I looked around carefully
everything seemed to be fine
except for the dusty smell
settled even in the flowerpot
the rooms that hang on the windows
were also good despite their antiquity
I didn't want my granddaughter to read me
like a book eaten by termites
After changing the curtains of the room, I adorned
young flowers in the vase
and like a decorated effigy on the doorstep of the shop
I got ready to receive the visitor

Translated by Shelly Bhoil